Serpent's Bite
by bellamysgirl
Summary: Stuck between friends on both sides in a Civil War, Diana Cassidy is forced to choose what's more important - family or gang loyalty. But she discovers they're actually the same thing. • Season 2 •
1. 1: Devil In Me

And once again I was alone. The beeping of the heart monitor was deafening. It was like the sound was vibrating my rib cage with every pulse, the sharp edges making my muscles ache. I exhaled a shaky breath to ward off the emotions threatening to overtake me. It was a battle I seemed to be destined to lose.

But that was okay. No one else was here to see it but me. An unconscious mind does not count. Thoughts of the worst had been pulling me into a place I didn't want to be—a place I shouldn't go. Though, I couldn't really help it. The one thing I couldn't stand to lose, was sure to be lost. That knowledge had been eating away at me for hours. I'd been able to deal with it up until this point. This point when my friends made the mistake of leaving me alone.

It was ridiculous—to think of how fast we'd gotten to this point of near bitter end. I couldn't help but try to picture the last time he looked normal, my eyes having nothing to do with themselves other than trace his relaxed features. But I forced myself to look away after a quick glance. I couldn't take more than that. I had to look at something else. The flowery drapes. The soft moonlight on the street outside the window. Or, my old friend, the floor tiles.

There was no point trying to conceal it. As I lifted my eyes to settle them on the pale skin of his face, I felt them begin to sting. It was almost overwhelming—the sudden ache bringing on a few stray tears. Hot water droplets rolled down my skin, leaving traces of their existence behind like an avalanche. "I know this is the part where I say something happy and heartfelt...but I can't do that," I swiped my tongue across my dry lips before continuing. "Things don't look good. And...I'm trying—I really am. But this feels so _final_ and I-"

No sound came out. My lips formed the words, but they were replaced by a squeak of a sob beginning, and I clamped a hand over my mouth. I squeezed my eyes shut. This was impossible. Impossible to keep myself together even long enough to say the words I should've said weeks ago. So I didn't try. Removing my hand from my mouth, I sniffled, and moved to sit on the edge of my seat, taking his limp hand in both of mine on the hospital bed.

He felt cold. Too cold. Just weeks ago, I'd felt his warm skin on mine in an embrace and I'd heard his heartbeat. Now he looked like he barely had one. Washed out skin, slightly sunken features, bags beneath his eyes. And he was cold. He'd never felt so cold. The tears kept rolling, but I did my best to keep talking—even though all I wanted to do was run.

Run right out the door and never look back at the pain waiting for me here. "You can't leave me tonight. I don't care what the doctors say. Don't leave me," I propped my elbows on the edge of the bed, reaching up a hand to brush his hair back behind his ear. "I can't do this without you, Pea. _We_ can't do this without you. So you can't leave just yet, okay? Please...just stay with me."

* * *

 _WEEKS EARLIER_

* * *

"Just talk about the deal," FP sighed heavily, fed up at this point. To be honest, I was, too. Jughead paced as the lawyer began to read the charges. But I stood just behind and to the left of FP's chair. My hand slid onto his shoulder, and his head turned toward me for a brief second, but he didn't look up. The lawyer was halfway through when FP interrupted, "I know what I did. The deal—what are they offering?"

"You're gonna want to take it," the lawyer slid his papers across the table to FP. "I'm telling you—I've been doing this a long time. It's a strong deal."

FP half-heartedly flipped the pages. Jughead came to stand on FP's other side. He only looked at the papers for a moment before looking right at the lawyer with a grim expression. "How. Many. Years?" he asked, a bit quietly. It was the question we needed answered, but didn't _want_ to know the answer to. How many years would our father be behind bars, missing our lives? We were at the mercy of someone else's idea of morality and I felt completely helpless.

The lawyer readjusted in his chair, clearing his throat. "Twenty years. If you take it to court, and continue on, it could be up to forty. I strongly suggest that you take the deal, Mr. Jones."

The room was quiet, but only out of sheer shock. Neither of us expected it to be that long when we'd wondered about it. But hearing such a large number made me feel sick to my stomach. FP hung his head with a sigh, and his right hand moved to rest on top of mine, still on his shoulder. " _Twenty_ _years_? That long?" Jughead questioned, appalled.

"The list of charges is longer than my right arm," the lawyer replied, as though the length should be obvious because of his words. "This is the best deal we're going to get here. I'm sorry."

It seemed the more I stood there, the more I contemplated the thought of twenty years in prison, the more my stomach turned. It felt like I couldn't breathe. Like the oxygen in the room was too thin. The effect was dizzying, only adding to the nausea. I tried to hold it back by taking in a deep breath. "And if he doesn't take it, is he _guaranteed_ forty?" I asked the lawyer.

"No. But it's a very, _very_ slim chance that you'll get anything less," he answered, from across the table.

"I'm gonna need some time to think about this," FP resigned, moving his hand off mine and back to the pages in front of him.

In exhaling my third deep breath, a tremble of dizziness and anxiety mixed in my gut. And it was too much. Thankfully for me, the meeting was just about over. I could feel eyes on me. It was Jughead. Analyzing me closely from two feet to my right. "Diana, you okay?" he asked, in a hushed voice. It was quiet, but it was enough to get FP's attention.

FP twisted to look up at me. His features washed from stressed to concerned as his eyes settled on my face. But he didn't get the chance to say anything on the subject of my surely green appearance. "I'm sorry, just a second," I held up a finger in a gesture, but it only lasted a millisecond. I was moving just after I'd spoken the words, heading right for the door. My hand pulled it open and I let it fall closed behind me after I'd blazed through.

There was a bathroom just down the hall. I nearly broke the door bursting in, but I didn't have time to worry. I'd barely slid to my knees in front of a toilet before I wretched up anything I'd managed to eat in the last forty-eight hours. Which, when I thought back on it, wasn't very much. Yet somehow I had plenty of things to come up. After, I sat back on my heels. My fingers gripped the toilet seat as I took in gulps of air, letting my eyes close.

If I was being honest with myself, I would say that I'd felt this way for just over two weeks— _sick_. Everything was so stressful, so nauseating. Whether it was Archie's dad or mine, something was happening that made me sick. And the day to day living with the knowledge of the stressful situation was just as nauseating. "Diana?" Jughead's voice followed a momentary screech of the bathroom door.

"It's all clear," I replied, swallowing hard.

The same screech from before sounded, along with a soft thud of the door closing, and I could hear footsteps getting close. They stopped a moment before he spoke again. "Are you okay?" Jughead asked, genuine concern the only alteration to his voice. His body cast a shadow across me as he slid to the floor just to my left. My stomach still felt uneasy. But his hand started a comfortable motion against my back that eased it enough to speak.

Exhaling, I answered, "I don't know. I think I'm coming down with something."

"Or you're drastically over-stressed and not eating or sleeping like you should be. With Pop's about to shut down, dad going to prison, and taking care of Cash—I can understand why," he spoke quietly. "When was the last time you got enough sleep? Or you ate an actual meal?"

"Does it matter?" I closed my eyes against the nausea, sounding a bit irritated because of it.

"It matters a lot, actually."

"Okay, um...I don't know. I just haven't been hungry lately. But I got eight hours."

Jughead's eyebrows popped in surprise, "Last night?"

"Last week—in total."

Jughead sighed, hanging his head. I knew how it sounded. But life was just so hectic. Bouncing between trailers to maintain a healthy level of family and love life. Walking Cash to school with enough time to get _myself_ to school. Polo practice immediately following school. Late shifts at Pop's waiting tables. Getting home with enough time to clean up the trailer a bit and make breakfast for Cash so I can do it all again. There was no point in attempting sleep most nights.

I'd dozed off at lunch the other day, but it wasn't for long. Either way, something in this situation needed to give. I couldn't keep up with all of it. "What can I do? There has to be something I can do to at least _somewhat_ help with all of this. You shouldn't have to do it all yourself," Jughead lifted his head, giving it a shake at his own words.

I shrugged a little. "I don't know. I don't know anything right now, Jug."

* * *

It was two weeks after the shooting at Pop's. The diner was going under. I sat on a stool at the front counter, amid the bare and empty halls, while Pop Tate hunched over the counter on the opposite side with his financial papers. "I don't know what I'm going to do, Diana," he confessed, sighing as he stood upright to look at me. "You're my only remaining staff member—but, either way, I have no customers!"

I leaned forward onto the counter on my forearms. "There has to be _something_ we can do to fix this."

"No one wants to eat where someone was almost murdered," he replied, sadly.

Pop's Chock 'Lit Shoppe was becoming a thing of old. A relic behind museum glass that no one dared touch. I pushed back from the counter, sliding off the stool. "Well, we can start by washing off the spray paint," I exhaled. "That's something we _can_ fix, right?" It was my plan from the beginning—it was why I'd come in that afternoon instead of going to school.

I picked up the bucket I'd filled with soapy water from the floor by my stool, grabbed the large sponge from the counter, and started for the door. As I pushed it open, I heard Pop's voice over the bell, calling after me, "You're a good kid, Diana."

"I try," I smiled at Pop, and he smiled back, before I disappeared through the door.

When Pop first told me his whole staff quit and the side of the Shoppe was vandalized, I'd wanted to hit someone. Because I had a feeling it was some North side moron with a can of spray paint and a big ego. But maybe it was my recent endeavors, the things I'd allowed myself to do, to feel, that was giving me such violent thoughts? I'd always wanted to, but never acted on it when I was angry. Now I was starting to act on it.

I'd guessed that helping Pop Tate clean up and restore the Chock 'Lit Shoppe to its original glory and status was my way of counter-acting the angry urges. The sun was shining softly on my back while I put all my strength into scrubbing the black lines. The lines that made up the words _DEATH DINER._ It wasn't true. No one died there. But I'd guessed it was the thought that counted. I'd had my ear buds deep in my ear canals with my iPod in my back pocket.

It was on shuffle so I didn't really know what was going to come on next, but it seemed it was stuck on all of my Eminem and NF songs. It wasn't bad—scrubbing the paint off. It was actually nice to break from my schedule and do something for myself after so long of being repetitive. _Reputation_ came on through the ear buds and I couldn't help but smile, bobbing my head, mouthing the words to _C_ _all It What You Want_ as I scrubbed.

I'd spent a little over twenty minutes scrubbing before a shadow was cast over me and the space I was working on. I'd only managed to get off the D and E, so now it was _EAD_ _DINER_. It was humorous. But I twisted at the sudden cast of darkness. The last person I expected to walk up to me then was walking up to me—Archie Andrews. It wasn't the mere sight of him that caused me to immediately pull out my ear buds, dropping my sponge into the bucket of water.

It was the glisten to his cheeks and the red to the edges of his eyes. He'd been crying. And he looked like he was about to keep crying. "Archie? Are you okay?" I asked, turning toward him fully, stuffing my ear buds into my pocket with my iPod. Archie came to stand about two feet from me, but he didn't look at me—he just looked at the ground. Like he was in shock.

"It's Miss Grundy...she's _dead_ ," he answered, as if it physically pained him to say it out loud. "She was murdered in Greendale last night."

I hadn't known exactly what to say. Or why he walked all the way from the high school to Pop's just to find me and tell me that. I didn't ask for the answer to either of those questions. Normally, I would have. But his shoulders shuddered as fresh tears fell along the lines of his previous tears, down his shadowed cheeks. The sight pained me to look at. But I pulled him into a hug so I didn't have to. His fingers gripped the back of my sweat shirt tightly.

Like there was a chance I'd blow away with the wind. And he buried his face in my shoulder. I exhaled, trying to push past the awkwardness of it all. My ex-boyfriend was coming to me for emotional support when the school music teacher he cheated on me with was murdered. How does one normally go about dealing with that kind of situation? Is there a manual for this? A _For Dummies_? Because that would've been very helpful.

Especially for when I finally got him to sit down inside Pop's, in a booth near the back, by the window. He'd stopped the tears for the most part, but he was still shaking quit a bit. All he could do was talk. It was a nervous, anxious ramble. Saying things I doubt anyone knew he was thinking about—and had been thinking about for weeks. "It's a little coincidental, don't you think? My dad's shot and then Miss Grundy's murdered right across the river—all within a matter of days?" he questioned, rhetorically. "What if this guy's targeting people that _I_ care about?"

"Let me stop you for a second. Archie, what makes you think someone would target _you_ specifically? Did you do something worthy of a stalker?" I asked, slightly confused by his theory.

He sighed heavily. "Look, Diana, I don't expect you to understand. I just need _someone_ to listen to me."

The look in his eyes said it all. He was fed up. Fed up with people not listening to his deepest fears because it sounded ridiculous. I knew exactly how that felt. So I nodded a little and sat back against the booth seat across from him. "Alright, then," I agreed. "Talk it through. Who, what, when, where, and why. What's so special about Archie Andrews?"

"I don't know...maybe it was the Jubilee? Everyone thinks I'm some hero. Maybe this guy's jealous? Or something? I don't know," he shook his head, in deep thought.

"So, he's jealous everyone thinks you're a hero. Now what?"

"Now he hurts the people I care about to show everyone just how wrong that is," his eyes shifted up to me from the table. There was a certain cold seriousness in them that caused me to sit up a little straighter in my seat. "Think about it, Diana—he shot my dad and I couldn't do anything to save him. But that backfired. So he went across the river and killed Miss Grundy to make a point."

With an exhale, I leaned forward on the table top with folded forearms. "That's a great theory. But don't start obsessing over this, okay? Find out what the Sheriff thinks about all of it first."

"I thought you said Keller was an incompetent ja-"

"I know what I said, Arch, but you _cannot_ act on this theory."

"Why not?" his eyebrows drew together with an accusatory tone.

"Because it's _fiction_!" I rose my voice a little, chuckling humorlessly once. Like it should be obvious. Because it should've been. "You have no proof that these two crimes have _anything_ to do with each other. Yes, you knew both victims. But that's where it ends. If you want to know the truth, Alice Cooper has contacts at the city Coroner's office. How do you think she got early access to Jason Blossom's autopsy report?"

Archie was sitting back a bit. His features were more relaxed than they had been, but he still looked to be thinking deeply, his eyes aimed at his hand resting atop the table. Encouraging more detective work was not the best thing to do. But if he was going to believe they weren't connected, then he needed to find it out himself. "I'm sorry for dumping all of this on you," he said, suddenly shifting his eyes up to mine, surprising me a bit. "I just...I needed to talk to someone—and I knew you'd listen."

I smiled a little, closed-mouthed. "It's alright. I've done my fair share of dumping this year."

"Do you think you'll still be able to work here?" he asked, obviously trying to make conversation.

"I don't know. It's still up in the air if it can even stay open with such a small customer base," I shrugged one shoulder. "Veronica mentioned something about having an event to boost the public's confidence in the place, but, I'm not too sure how that's going to go over."

"I, uh, I should probably let you get back to whatever you were doing out there before I pulled you away," Archie said, a bit abruptly, before standing up from the booth. It was sudden. But I did my best to act like it wasn't, standing as well. "I'm going to do what you said, and talk to Betty's mom. I need to know if this is because of me."

"Just be careful with that, okay? Promise me you won't go too far with this."

He sighed, but nodded. "I promise."

* * *

When I got home to the trailer, just after dark, Jughead looked like he was getting ready to leave. Betty was there when I walked in, standing in the living room with him. My right eyebrow rose on my forehead as I closed the door behind me. Both Jughead and Betty looked like I'd just walked in on something I shouldn't have. "I'm sorry. I didn't see the sock," I quipped, with dry sarcasm. "You guys going somewhere?"

"Actually, I wanted to talk to you. It's about dad's case," Jughead said, taking a step or two toward me.

I dropped my bag on the couch cushion and dropped onto the armrest. "I'm listening."

"I talked to Tall Boy about what to do, moving forward. He told me to go talk to the Serpents' lawyer-" My head snapped back in a recoil as my eyes narrowed. Due to this reaction, Jughead stopped talking, pausing with a look of concern. "...what?"

"You went to _Penny Peabody_?" It was rhetorical, rueful.

Jughead's eyebrow rose. "Yeah…? You've met her?"

I got to my feet, stepping closer as I pushed off the armrest. My chest was tight now—battened down with a mixture of anxious worry and pure rage. "What exactly did you ask her to do, and what did she ask for in return?" I crossed my arms over my chest to hide my panic. "Tell me the truth, Jughead."

"I didn't ask for anything, she just sort of...started talking. She said that if we get Cheryl's family to show mercy, we could get dad a lesser sentence," Jughead answered.

"And what did _she_ ask for?" I pressed, my eyebrows creasing.

Jughead shook his head, confused. "Nothing. She said if she did me a favor, I would do her a favor in the future. No details were discussed."

The air in my lungs was let out in a deep sighing exhale, and I combed my fingers through my hair as I took steps away from Jughead and Betty. Serpents of all ages knew about the likes of one Penny Peabody. _The Snakecharmer_. FP had warned me not to get tangled with her and her twisted web of 'favors' years ago, closer to when I first joined. I'd met her once or twice in passing. Even though we didn't speak much, all I remembered about the encounters was how weird she seemed.

She acted almost crazed. Like she was on something, when I knew certainly she couldn't be. "We were going to try to talk to Cheryl," Betty said, a bit hesitant sounding behind me. "We thought maybe you would come with us? You two are close and all-"

I turned on my heel, silencing her with nothing but my gaze. "You guys talk to Cheryl. I have a snake to step on."

Betty looked a bit terrified. It was in her reclined posture and rounded eyes. Jughead just looked confused, mildly concerned. I didn't say another word. Just grabbed my Serpent jacket off the coat rack by the door before I left, letting it slam shut behind me. I couldn't tell what was more enraging—Penny thinking she could mess with my family, or Tall Boy sending Jughead to Penny in the first place. Both were equally irksome.

But I could deal with Tall Boy later. Penny needed more urgent handling. So I went there first, to the tattoo parlor not far from the Wyrm. It was her usual place of business. Thankfully for me, it was almost always open. I pushed through the glass door and the skinny tattoo artist that worked there didn't bother looking up from tattooing a blonde biker. "She's in the back," he said, tiredly. Probably because he'd done it already today, just hours ago.

I already knew where her office was located. My feet carried me across the tiny parlor to the back office, through the beaded curtain separating it from the rest of the building. Penny was sitting behind her cramped desk, feet up on the corner of it, leaned back in the office chair with her phone in her hands. As the beads chimed, she glanced up, a smiling grin coming to her lips upon seeing me. "Hey, look who it is," she put her phone on the desk. "Long time, no see—right, DJ?"

My feet didn't stop until my knees were touching the desk, and I leaned over it, my palms on the cluttered wood. "It's _Diana_. I don't care what you think you've got on my brother _or_ my father. It's over, Penny. Whatever favor you think you need is on me now. If you talk to Jughead again, I'll know."

Penny sat up in her seat, dropping her legs off the side of the desk. "Wow, look at that. I very much admire your enthusiasm here. But what makes you think you can come in here and make a threat like that?" she asked, rhetorically, in a quiet but patronizing tone as she leaned forward. "I don't take orders from you, kid."

She shrugged up her shoulders with a mock expression of apology in a gesture before relaxing to her typical expression of knowing triumph. My lips curled up in a snarl, "Maybe not. But I know what you do. You manipulate, you use, and you cheat. People like _you_ don't pass up an offer to manipulate someone innocent for free."

"True..." she nodded slowly, looking away from me as she thought. Then, in a snap, she looked back to me with a mischievous grin, her eyes glowing with a hint of admiration. "Alright. You got yourself a deal, kid. I'll be in touch."


	2. 2: Sour Cherry

"Miss Blossom, you may proceed with your statement."

"Your honor, I speak for myself and for my mother when I say we forgive FP Jones for the part he played in covering up my brother's murder," Cheryl said, calmly, from where she sat in the witness stand. I sat to the right of Jughead and Betty, just behind FP and his lawyer, watching Cheryl's testimony. I'd crossed my arms to keep from gripping the chair too hard. But all I was doing was branding my upper arms with finger nail marks through my long-sleeved shirt.

It was nerve-wracking to think of what Cheryl might say. As of late, we hadn't interacted much. And I worried that she might take it personally and try to ruin this trial because of it. But Betty assured me she'd taken care of it, moments before we took our seats this morning. "And we humbly asked the court for leniency," Cheryl continued, shocking the air out of all of us. "FP's guilt has been blown out of proportion."

"As much as I sympathize, I can't ignore the quality of Mr. Jones' crimes," the Judge told Cheryl. "There were no extenuating circumstances."

That was a lie. But no one knew that. No one but my family and Cheryl. She looked disappointed, desperate from whatever Betty was holding over her head. It had to be something good if it was making Cheryl Blossom squirm in public. Cheryl then spoke quickly, blurting it out, "My father threatened him. I overheard them talking in daddy's study. Daddy said he would hurt Diana and Jughead if FP didn't comply. Is _that_ extenuating enough?"

"In light of these revelations," the Judge spoke after moment of thoughtful silence. "I suggest that we take a step back and reevaluate certain aspects of the case. At which time we will revisit sentencing. Adjourned."

The courtroom was instantly up and moving, filing out the exits. Jughead seemed to be in a pause of shock. I leaned forward to see Betty around him with semi-rounded eyes, and she had a similar look of surprise. Like she, too, didn't even expect this outcome. Suddenly Jughead stood, and he grabbed FP's shoulder. FP startled and twisted in his chair, but he stood upon seeing Jughead behind him, and they hugged tightly.

I pushed myself up from my chair—if anything, just to prove to myself that I could do it. Even a delay in the case was a win for us at this point. A delay could mean all the difference. It could spare us a lump sum of years. When FP and Jughead parted, FP immediately pointed at me. "Come on, you, too," he said, holding out his arms and gesturing for me to come close with his hands. "I know you had something to do with this. I don't know what I'd do without you two."

I gave a quick glance to Betty, who only smiled at me, before I stepped forward. His arms were tight around my middle in a comfortable squeeze, and my arms were hanging around his shoulders. "I love you, dad," I said, just before pulling away.

With the hints of a bittersweet smile, FP replied, "I love you, too, kid."

* * *

Betty and Veronica's 'event' to save Pop's was a joke. Jughead was helping out mostly behind the counter, with Betty, Veronica, and the River Vixens helping out as waitresses. But no one was here. No one but us. Unless you count Cash, Sweet Pea, and Fangs as participants. The three of them were in Cash's usual booth down the empty aisle, Sweet Pea and Fangs filling in as part time babysitters so Jughead and I could focus on work.

Of course, there was no work to deal with. It started a little over an hour ago and no one had come in. Jughead leaned into the counter beside where I sat facing the front. "This is pointless, isn't it?" I asked, rhetorically, my palms bracing the counter beneath me just beside my knees.

Jughead exhaled. "It's still early. It could still work."

"It's a sad day in Riverdale when Jughead Jones is the optimist," I turned my head to see him, my blank expression unmoving.

But Jughead smirked, chuckling a little. Betty walked over, dropping her forearms onto the counter as she leaned in to my right. "No one's coming," she said, as though it were a dramatic revelation. "The place is empty—it has been for hours."

Just then, like Betty had called into the depths of hell, Alice Cooper walked in the door. She batted the balloons from her face that were pinned by the door as she stepped into the main aisle. Betty pushed off the counter. "Mom," she greeted, sounding almost relieved. "Did you come to gloat?"

"Oh, don't be so cynical, Elizabeth. I came to write my next story over one last root beer float. I'm calling it 'Requiem For Pop's'," Alice smiled patronizingly. She turned to the nearest booth and sat, pulling her laptop from her bag. "Can I get a quote, dear?"

Betty placed her hands on her hips, "You're a fiend, mother. But this is one obituary that you're _not_ gonna write."

She sounded so sure, so certain. But she was right. It didn't take long for a handful of customers to come into the Shoppe and take their seats. I'd hopped off the counter and took a notepad to retrieve orders and made sure to give Alice a smile—one that mimicked her patronizing features not long ago—as I walked by her booth. All she did was watch me with daggers. I took orders and brought them to the counter while simultaneously helping clear tables.

Along with that, it was my usual duty to work the register. During a transaction, I noticed Veronica's mother, Hermione Lodge, walk in with a man on her arm. One I could only assume was the elusive _Hiram Lodge_. After they talked with Veronica and sat at a booth, I slipped out from behind the counter. I dropped the receipt from the transaction to the proper table at the other end of the Shoppe, then started back up toward the front.

On my way, I caught Sweet Pea's eyes as I slowed long enough to put my hand on his shoulder a second, flashing him a smile. He smiled up at me a moment, but he was quickly pulled back into the conversation Cash was locking both Sweet Pea and Fangs in. I didn't catch all of what was said. But it sounded like they were talking about origami. Cash was folding pieces of paper on the table while her mouth moved a thousand miles a minute.

The quick look of Fangs I got was priceless. He looked completely lost, but trying his best to keep up as he, too, folded paper on his side of the booth. Since it was also on my way, I stopped off at Hermione and Hiram Lodge's table. Pulling my pad and pencil from my pocket, I smiled politely at the two. "Welcome to Pop's Chock 'Lit Shoppe," I said, as they finally looked up. "What can I get started for you?"

"Diana...it's good to see you," Hermione smile politely back at me.

I nodded a little. "Likewise."

"This is my husband, Hiram," Hermione quickly introduced me to the man sitting between us. "Hiram, this is Diana Cassidy. She goes to school with Veronica."

Hiram held out a hand, a pleasant smile on his lips that looked a bit unnatural. I shook his hand, but I was quick to correct Hermione, shaking my head. " _Used to_ go to school with Veronica. I transferred to South Side High to be closer to family," I said, casually.

"Well, Veronica talks about you quite a bit," Hiram commented, retracting his hand after a moment. "Either way, it's still very nice to finally meet you."

"Thanks—you, as well. Now, what can I get for your guys tonight?"

After taking the order, I took it to the front counter, stepping up beside Veronica to hand it off to Jughead. "Wow, you're brave," Veronica commented, giving me a surprised look. Jughead took the order slip from me and I turned my head to see her with an eyebrow raised obliviously.

"It's just your parents," I shrugged up one shoulder.

Her eyebrows did a wave across her forehead before she turned to head off down the aisle of booths. The bell above the door rang and I twisted to see who'd walked in. But I wished I hadn't. It was Tall Boy and two other older Serpents. They walked in together like some kind of biker boy band on the rebound and started for a booth down the aisle. It was safe to say that my blood was boiling. With what was going on with dad, I'd had no time to talk to Tall Boy about Jughead and Peabody.

I hadn't had time to tell him to back off. But he seemed completely unbothered by it all. Probably because he didn't know what wrath was awaiting him. Because FP was out of the picture, Tall Boy took first prize as leader of the Serpents. And now he thought he could do whatever he wanted to whomever he wanted. Including me and my brother. Without taking my venomous eyes off Tall Boy, I pushed away from the counter.

My body parted only a fraction of an inch before something caught my wrist. I'd glanced down to find a hand wrapped tightly around the bone and my eyes followed the appendage all the way up to my brother's concerned gaze. "Diana," he warned, tilting his head ever so slightly. "Don't."

"Relax, will you? I'm going to take their order." I pulled my arm from his fingers in a hard tug, shuffling away from the counter a step. Jughead's eyes still bore into me with intensity, but I turned away, and carried on in my path to the booth of old Serpents just down the aisle. I wouldn't get physical. I would just politely tell him to go to the devil while taking his order. I could do that. I could do casual and calm. At least, that's what I told myself.

I stepped up to the table, paper pad in hand, and flashed a loose smile at the three men in the booth. "Hey, guys. Welcome to Pop's," I greeted, forcing out my best enthusiastic tone and expression. Tall Boy looked unbothered by my act, but the other two Serpents looked unnerved. "What can I get you tonight—I mean, besides my boot in your face?"

Tall Boy readjusted his position to better look up at me, eyebrows knitting. "What are you talking about now?"

"Next time you want to hose someone over, don't pick a _Jones_. You're lucky we're in public or your DNA would be all over this table," I spoke lowly, with narrowed eyes. And, in a snap, I brought myself back to casual and enthusiastic. Holding up my pad and pencil with a slightly titled head. "What can I get for you gentlemen?"

* * *

I'd remained firmly planted on the floor of the tiny bathroom in the trailer all morning, since before I would usually be up for school. Jughead had offered to stay with me. To be my moral support through whatever flu-like sickness was claiming my body. But I told him to go ahead without me and, surprisingly, he listened. It was his turn to walk Cash to school anyway, so I was covered. I'd been sleeping peacefully, calmly in my bed of a couch.

It'd been the first night I'd slept soundly in a while. And then suddenly, my eyes jerked open at the abrupt feeling of nausea in my gut. That's when I once again just barely made it to a bathroom before throwing up any and all food in my stomach. I'd dozed off for a bit, sitting on the floor with my back against the cold tub of the shower. A buzz, a vibration in the floor tile woke me in a jolt. My eyes fell to the cell phone at my side.

The device was lit up with messages. Messages from Jughead checking in. But the newest addition was a message from Sweet Pea. I'd half-heartedly picked up the phone with shaking fingers and opened the string of texts. Before I dozed off, I'd sent him a message telling him I wouldn't be at school. His response was less than calm.

 _AT 10:34AM_

 **SP: Are you okay? Do you need anything?**

 **ME: Stay at school.  
**

 **SP: That didn't answer my question.**

 **ME: Sweets, I'm fine. Just a little sick.**

 **SP: I'm coming over.**

 **ME: I said I'm fine.**

 **SP: Too late.**

I groaned, my head bumping against the tub at my back. The sound mingled with an echoing thump, following by Killer's bark, and a shuffling squeak. Someone had opened and closed the front door. Which meant he was right in saying it was too late to keep him in school. Swearing under my breath against the near revolt of my insides, I pushed myself to my feet. I walked to the bathroom doorway. It was as far as I had to go to see him.

Sweet Pea walked in through the open bedroom door then, and I gave him a disapproving look. "Sweets, you didn't have to come here," I said, tilting my head a little, as my fingers gripped the door frame to keep me upright. "I'd be perfectly fine crawling back into bed and watching _The X-Files_ by myself."

He sighed, "And what kind of boyfriend would I be if I stayed at school knowing you were home sick?"

Now it was my turn to sigh. But he carefully put his arms around my frame, gently squeezing—if at all—and I sunk into the front of his t-shirt. I'd felt bad for him coming there when he should've been at school. Yet a large part of me was glad he came against my protests. It felt better having him there with me. Especially when we snuggled into the bed. My head was on his lower torso and his fingers combed through my hair, the other arm draped lazily around my shoulders.

Whatever show was first in my suggested on Netflix was what we watched. I'd thrown up twice more before we'd gotten there, though. And, both times, Sweet Pea was on the bathroom floor with me—holding my hair aside and running his hand soothingly across my shoulder blades and back. With all that was going on, I could not be sick. Too much of me was needed to be stuck in bed or in the bathroom. But I had no choice in it.

The next morning, I'd thrown up. But I was able to pull myself out of it enough to get to school. If I needed to, I told myself, I could just go to the bathroom for a few minutes and be right back at it. I couldn't afford to lose another day if I wanted to keep my grades at their current status. So that's what I did. Holding it in through class was hard. I'd almost lost it in Science. The project was to dissect a frog. I had done it before.

I had done it a few times before, but my stomach wasn't having it, and I was able to be excused to the bathroom. Then it was lunch. It was safe to say I didn't feel like eating. So I sat at the usual Serpent table and waited for the others to arrive with their trays as I responded to a text message from Archie. He'd sent it a moment before I sat down. Apparently, it was true that the crimes were not related. And not only was it Fred Andrews and Geraldine Grundy.

Now there was a third victim— _Moose_. He and his girlfriend, Midge, were at Lover's Lane when someone shot into their car, shooting Moose in the lower abdomen. Moose was still in the hospital, according to Archie. He and the rest of the football team had visited Moose and he seemed to be doing alright. At least, that was the gist of Archie's long-winded message. As I was still texting, a female voice caused me to jolt, hitting the wrong letter. "So, who are we conversing with?" Toni asked, curiosity laced her tone as she sat across from me with a grin.

Sighing, I backspaced, and corrected the letter. "A friend at Riverdale High."

"You still have those?" she raised an eyebrow, surprised.

"Yeah, I have a couple. Bonds made out of a need for survival die hard, I guess," I shrugged up one shoulder, lowering my phone to the table as I sent the text to Archie. "Have you seen Sweet Pea and Fangs?"

Toni wrinkled her nose. "The boys cut out after English Lit. Didn't say why, but Sweet Pea was ticked off about _something_."

My eyebrows drew together as my gaze slid down to my cell phone, laying face up, staring at me. I'd received no word of this from anyone. Usually, Sweet Pea tells me when he's leaving school early. Sometimes he says why, other times he does not. But I didn't really care. Not as long as I knew he was gone to begin with. "He didn't tell me," I stated, glancing up at Toni.

She shrugged a little, before stuffing a fork full of salad into her mouth. After a moment, and she swallowed, she spoke again. "You still sick?"

"Unfortunately," I nodded, exhaling.

"What are your symptoms?" she asked, curiously, not looking up from stirring her salad.

"Uh...well, nausea. A lot of it. It's like I can't eat anything or drink anything without throwing it back up. I could barely get a bottle of water down yesterday. Today's a bit better, but I'm still just... _sick_." For a moment, Toni just stared at me. Her eyes narrowed slightly, a light something tugging up the corners of her lips, as she chewed another fork of salad. It caused me to raise my right eyebrow as I stared back, questioningly.

Finally, my eyebrows knitted together, and I dropped my shoulders. I questioned, "Why are you looking at me like that?"

"I really don't wanna know, but I gotta ask," she exhaled, looking down at her salad before continuing. "What would you say your sex life with Sweet Pea is like?"

"Why do you assume we're sleeping together?" I countered, trying not to answer—and failing to do it properly.

She chuckled once, looking up at me, "Because I've seen the way he looks at you. And _you're_ avoiding the question."

"Because I don't want to have this conversation with you!" I sat back a little, my voice rising in panic. She was cornering me and I had nowhere to go but through. "I don't want to have this conversation with anyone. It's private. It's _personal_."

"It's simple. Have you had sex or not?"

" _Why_ do you care?" I leaned forward on the table, my eyebrows furrowing to match my eyes narrowed in confusion.

Toni leaned forward into the table, lowing her voice to keep what she was about to say between us. "I think you need to stop thinking _sickness_ , and start thinking _pregnancy test_ ," she answered, with a somewhat serious expression. Then, with a head tilt in a gesture and a grin, she finished, "Girl, you've got morning sickness."

I was stunned into a momentary silence. Not only had I not thought of that, but I also hadn't _wanted_ to think about it being a possibility. I sat back in my seat and she resumed eating her salad like it hadn't phased her at all. Probably because it hadn't. But it pushed me into a state of fresh nausea just thinking about it. "No, I don't," I shook my head. "I can't have morning sickness. I'm not _pregnant_."

"You won't know unless you take a test," Toni pointed out, light-heartedly.

My eyes shifted across the somewhat empty Serpent area of the cafeteria before I leaned toward Toni, "I'm not taking a test. And we're _not_ talking about this again."

That night, I couldn't help swearing under my breath, leaning my palms into the porcelain around the bathroom sink, my head hung between my risen shoulders. There were many milestones a person reached in their life. Sweet Sixteen, driver's license, and first job were milestones I'd already hit. First child was not on my list. Nor should it have been. And yet I stood in the tiny bathroom of FP's trailer, staring down at the pregnancy test on the counter.

Its dual lines alerted me to the accuracy of Toni's prediction at lunch. Normally, I would say it was faulty and throw it out. But I'd taken three. They were _all_ positive. I tossed the tester into the waste basket and dropped onto the closed toilet lid with a heavy exhale. No one but me and Toni were onto the sudden change my life was about to take. And it was going to stay that way for as long as humanly possible. Or, at least, until I found the right words to use.


	3. 3: Save Me

There were things in life that came natural to literally everyone. Like breathing. Then, there were things that came natural to only a few people—like drawing, or dancing. But there were a lot of things that didn't come natural anyone at all. Sometimes things just didn't come natural to _me_. Being a mother was supposed to be one of those things that came natural to a few people—those on this planet with a uterus, anyway.

All I'd been doing is using the Wyrm's WiFi to research pregnancy. Anything and everything having to do with it, to be exact. I'd clicked on article after article, related search after related search, and I'd found myself on a few odd websites. But I'd found out some things I didn't know before, at least. I sat at the far corner of the bar with my computer on the counter top in front of me, my back facing the wall to ward off peepers, while I snacked on oyster crackers and drank Seven Up.

Finally, a meal I could keep down. Though it wasn't much, it still offered more than the exact sum of zero that I was getting before. Toni was behind the bar, working, while I clicked away. Occasionally she would come over and ask for an update on info. We had to keep whatever conversation transpired hushed for fear of being overheard. I was at the Wyrm under the disguise of hanging out while Sweet Pea and Tall Boy played pool.

The pool tables were a good length from us, but I still made Toni keep her voice down just to be safe. "So? Anything new?" Toni asked, stepping over to me behind the bar, leaning into it on my left with her folded forearms beneath her chest. She seemed more neutral than anything, but she was still more—dare I say—excited about all of this than I was.

I blew a puff of air through my lips. "It says you can start really showing as early as twelve or thirteen weeks. If I did my math correctly—which, I'm confident that I _did_ —I'm at twelve. I only have a _minimum_ of a week before someone's going to ask when I started getting so fat. At least now I have a bona fide reason for the inability to wear my skinny jeans right now."

" _Please_. With as thin as you are, it probably won't even turn out to be that big of a bump," Toni assured, pushing off the bar to stand upright.

My eyes darted up from the laptop screen. "Have you _seen_ my stomach? It's already bigger than it was just last week."

"Girl, seriously, don't stress over it. You can wear baggy t-shirts for a little while longer. Use the time you have left to work up the nerve to tell Sweet Pea."

I pulled my eyes from the computer screen once again to look at her as I sighed. "Honestly, I just...I don't know how I'm supposed to do all of this. Keeping this to myself is smart but, even though it's only been three days, I feel like it's been a year. And at the same time I'm still trying to keep a job while going to school and taking care of my sister."

Toni's lips drew to one side. "Maybe you're not _supposed_ to do it all? You have friends, family—people that care about you. Lean on them. You're not breaking any rules by asking for help."

She gave me a knowing look before heading to the other side of the bar. Toni had a point. The question was, _who_ was I going to ask for help? Jughead had asked me what he could do to help out with my full schedule just days ago. And I trusted Jughead with my secrets more than anyone probably should trust anyone with such important things. Why not trust him with this one?

* * *

Cash and I sat at the kitchen table eating dinner. Actually, _she_ was eating, I was sitting there with her for moral support. The whole purpose of sitting there was to talk to Jughead as soon as he got back from the high school. He texted me earlier, said he was going to be there late. Being at South Side High at night was never a good idea. It was the exact opposite. But I tried to keep an open mind. After all, there was nothing I could've done about it.

I'd gotten take out from Pop's for Cash and Jughead. Cash was almost done with her burger, moving onto her french fries now. "How was school today?" I asked her, resting my forearms on top of the table. She didn't bother swallowing before answering. Instead, she spoke around a full mouth of fries.

"Great! Mrs. Baker took us to Fox Forest to find leaves," she answered, eyes glued to the french fry she swirled in her pool of ketchup. "We found really big ones that we took back to school and painted. Mine got hung up on the art board. Gina's did, too, but then she ate glue and Mrs. Baker had to call her mom."

My head nodded slowly, my chin resting on my knuckles as my elbow braced against the table. "Wow. Sounds like your day was eventful?"

"It was! What did _you_ do today?" Cash asked, suddenly perking up as she looked at me.

"Well, after school I went to the Whyte Wyrm with Sweet Pea," I replied.

She sucked in an abrupt gasp of air as her eyes widened, and I paused in anticipation of her next words. "Can I take him to show and tell next week?!"

"Uh...Cash, you want to show _Sweet Pea_? What about your dog, or...something less threatening?"

Cash slumped down in her chair, but her lips tightened, eyebrows lowering in a defiant expression. When she really wanted something I wasn't giving her, she always gave me that look. Even when she was a baby. That was always a look we got. Only now, when she was older, did we know what it meant. "He's not threatening! I would have a better show and tell than _Sabrina Green_ —she's been voted most popular for two years!"

"I can't really answer either way. You'll have to ask him yourself," I resigned, sitting back in my chair.

She seemed content with that answer, giving a singular nod and grabbing another french fry. I couldn't help chuckling a little at her behavior. It was so innocent. Cash honestly had no idea about the hateful things said about Serpents—or the hate carried toward them in everyday actions. It was like we were the plague. But not to Cash. No. Cash believed we were some new brand of superhero. And maybe that was for the best?

Maybe it was better that she believe the fairy tales than become acquainted with the harsh reality? I'd gotten Cash tucked in on her couch. There had still been no word from Jughead. My mind had been racing all night with possible outcomes for what I was going to say. I hadn't even decided on what to say yet, actually. I didn't have time to think all of it through. Not when an echo of a sound caused me to instinctively sit upright on the bed.

I'd been draped across the width of it, thinking. But the sound was familiar. It was human. The curiosity mixing with concern in my chest pushed me to slide off the bed and walk out to the front door of the trailer. My eyes caught the clock as I walked through the kitchen. Just before midnight. With the recent incidents of injury, you could say I was a little nervous when I unlocked the door. The masked man—the Black Hood, as the papers called him—could be anywhere.

So I pulled it open slowly, with caution. It was open all of about four inches when my heart skipped. And not in a good way. " _Jughead_ ," the name rolled off my tongue in a melody of anxious concern. He stood just at the base of the steps. An arm across his middle, another on the railing, with a grimacing expression marked by red scrapes and purple bruises. I flicked on the porch light before stepping out, rushing down the steps to him. "What _happened_ to you, Jug?"

I wrapped my left arm around his back to help hold him up, and we moved up onto the first step as he replied through a mild groan. "A couple Ghoulies jumped me when I tried to leave the school," he explained, pained by the steps and the speaking. "They locked the doors."

"Pea warned you. Why did you stay so late?" I asked, out of pure concern.

We made it to the top of the steps and I helped him inside, closing the door and locking it behind us. Cash was still sound asleep. Completely oblivious to Jughead's current condition. And it was probably the best thing for this scenario. Jughead moved his right arm around my shoulders to lean on me, holding his left arm to his ribs instead, and I helped him through the kitchen. "You know me. I'm a night owl, Diana. I do my best work after dark," he finally answered, when we reached the bedroom.

He sounded his usual level of sarcasm. But it was masked by a veil of a painful rasp. My hand groped the wall for the light switch as we passed through the doorway. The light only brought more awareness to the marks on his face, when I got him sat on the end of the bed. "Oh, Jug..." I bit down on my lower lip to keep from making a panicked sound.

"It looks worse than it is," he tried.

I slowly shook my head, my eyes shifting to his from the bruise near his left temple. "No. I'm pretty sure it's about the same."

With an exhale, I pattered into the bathroom. The first aid kit was always under the sink, to the right, and near the back. It was right where I left it when I pulled open the cupboard doors. I grabbed the plastic box with a cross on it, closed the doors, and hurried back to the bed. Easing myself onto the end of the bed beside Jughead, I popped open the box. " _You_ look better, at least," Jughead noticed, eyes scanning my features. "Are you still feeling sick?"

My fingers tore open an antiseptic Q-tip. "Yeah. But I am feeling better."

"That's good. Statistically speaking, at least _one_ of us has to be in good health at the same time."

"Jug, we need to talk," I gently dabbed the Q-tip on the cuts by his temple closest to me, and he hissed, flinching away a second with a grimace. "-I'm sorry."

He shook his head, leaning toward me again. "No, it's okay. What do we need to talk about?"

Carefully, I resumed rolling the antiseptic across the cuts. I could tell he was only intrigued because he needed an escape. He needed something to distract himself from the unbearable sting spreading across the skin of his face. You could tell by the way his eyes remained narrowed and how his fingers gripped the comforter beneath us. On the inside, I was screaming. It was always easy to talk to Jughead. But getting good at keeping my other half a secret from him tarnished that ability a bit.

My heart felt like it was moving too fast. Like I was breathing faster to keep up, running an imaginary race I would not win. I took a deep breath and discarded the Q-tip, my hand moving for the tube of antibiotic ointment next. "Well...it's about me and Sweet Pea," I started, failing to hide my nervousness.

Jughead's eyes shifted to the left, landing on mine through his grimace. "Did you guys break up or something?"

"No, no—we're fine," I quickly shook my head, reaching up to dab the medicine on the worst of the cuts. "It's just...it's more about me, but it still _involves_ him-"

"Diana, you're not making any sense. Whatever it is—just tell me."

His expression was still contorted in mild pain, but his tone was a deep shade of understanding that urged me to get to the point on the premise of unconditional acceptance. It was too much when I thought about it for too long—the prospect of saying it out loud. But I drew in a deep breath and blurted it out, before I could change my mind. "I'm pregnant."

Those two words. They meant a million things. And they felt heavy, pulling the weight from my shoulders as I breathed them out. Jughead didn't move. He didn't speak. Not for a moment. It would've worried any normal person. But I could tell he was thinking about it, considering how to proceed. Finally, after a little longer, he asked, "Are you _sure_?"

"I took three tests. Toni was the one that suggested morning sickness. Otherwise, I'd probably never notice."

Jughead exhaled, eyes downcast as he shook his head. "Of _course_. That's why you've been sick without any other symptoms," he was thinking out loud, as it clicked. Then he lifted his eyes to meet mine as I worked the package off a small bandage. "Do you know how far along you are? Or- can you tell? I'm not quite sure how this works." He'd said it like it was an apology. Apologizing for offending me with the question. But I shook my head with a small smile.

"It's okay. We were only unprotected once, so, it's pretty easy. I'm twelve weeks," I answered, placing the bandage on the deep cut above his eye.

"That long? Wow. Are you guys going through with it?" he asked, curiously. My eyes fell to my hands as they dropped in my lap, crinkling the bandage wrapper. There was no need to respond. My silence said it enough. His shoulders dropped, "You haven't told him."

I shook my head. "It was hard enough telling _you_ , Jug."

"Why?" his eyebrows crinkled.

"Because I'm sixteen. I'm sixteen years old and my mother's dead, my father's going to jail, and the guy that knocked me up is in a biker gang. Not to mention that it's just...it's a big deal. A baby is a _big_ deal. It's so much pressure and I'm not even that far into it," I vented, dropping my shoulders as I finally moved to meet his eyes. "I mean—we talked about kids once. He was drunk, so, I don't know what to do with that information. But I can't just tell him whenever."

Jughead's features softened a bit, "You think he'll get ticked off?"

"I don't know, but I don't want to bring it up when he's _already_ mad."

"Right," Jughead's eyes moved downward again, plunging into deep thought. "That's going to be kind of difficult, considering he's _always_ mad..."

I sent my knuckles into his upper arm in a half-hearted poke, " _Not_ helping!"

"I'm sorry, that was inappropriate timing," he apologized, with a slight slant to his lips in a tiny grin. But it did pull a small chuckle from me, seeing his humorous expression. There was no way of telling if it was the stress or the humor causing the laughter for sure but, either way, I needed it. It felt good. "Anything else about this I should know?"

My lips pressed into a thin line in an expression and I tugged up the hem of my loose sweater. "I'm already showing. _Feel_ this."

I grabbed his hand, and he quickly mumbled a few words in protest, but I'd pulled his fingers to my stomach before he could form a coherent sentence. Jughead had always been a tad squeamish when it came to feminine issues. This was a combination of a feminine issue and a violation of personal space. So he was a bit squirmy. But I didn't care at that moment. All I wanted was to share this with someone. To talk about it with someone.

Who better to share it with than my brother? My hand guided his slowly over the slight slope of my skin below my naval. " _Wow_ ," Jughead sounded a mixture of things. Surprised, amazed, grossed out, and terrified. But his eyes were blank, resting on my hand over his. "It's definitely in there, isn't it?"

"It had a heartbeat about six weeks ago," I nodded, with a small smile. "It'll be kicking in six more, according to the internet."

His eyes moved to meet mine, raising a brow. "When do you find out the gender?"

"Another week or two, I think. But I am officially a three-D printer."

"That's one way to look at it."

I dropped my shirt hem and closed up the first aid box before taking it to the bathroom. Putting it right back where I got it. That night, I'd slept in the bed with Jughead. Tucked in beneath the covers, arms wrapped around each other, like we used to when we were little. Of course, back then it was a sleeping bag. But, even with the extra space, it felt wrong to split apart.

* * *

The way the town had changed could be felt in a physical density everywhere you went. The air was thick with fear. You couldn't go anywhere without hearing someone talk about changing locks, hiring protection. But no one was talking about the obvious. The police still had no leads on whoever the Black Hood was. It seemed like nothing was being done—because nothing _could_ be done. Yet Archie Andrews and the Riverdale High Bulldogs found a way.

It was on a flier. It was on a million fliers, stamped all over town. _The Red Circle_. It was the football team with a solution to the public's terror. Offer protection, they'll relax. Though the idea had a million different potential failures, it was successful. Until the video. I only saw it because the young Serpents were talking about it at school. The worst part was _watching_ the video.

I sat between Sweet Pea and Fangs, watching the video on the laptop on the table. Archie was the only one not wearing a mask. The other members of The Red Circle stood or sat around the shot, shirtless, wearing red hoods that mimicked the Black Hood's. "D, don't you know this North sider?" Sweet Pea asked, turning his head to look down at me.

"I used to," I replied, my eyebrows drawn.

I couldn't understand it—the logic in making a video to call out the Black Hood. After one more second of it, I pushed myself up from the table, and pulled my cell phone from my back pocket as I exited the Serpent area of the cafeteria. If anyone would have the answers to my questions, it would be Archie himself. Get it from the horse's mouth for the most accurate information, right? I dialed Archie's number and held the phone to my ear as I listened to it ring.

It rung three times. Then, finally, he picked up with a simple, "Hey."

"You promised me, Andrews. You _promised_ you wouldn't get too deep—and that's _exactly_ what you're doing," I chided, halfway to my locker. "What even _are_ you doing? Baiting a masked murderer with a hero complex? This needs to stop. Before you or any of your Red Circle buddies get hurt."

"Diana, I don't expect you to understand—but this is important. Someone has to step up and do something, someone has to fight back. We're getting picked off and we're not doing anything to stop it."

I scoffed. "So you're going to make the guy doing the picking _angry_?"

"We have to draw him out," Archie explained, like it should've been obvious. "Look, I need your help. Mrs. Cooper thinks the Black Hood is a South sider with an ax to grind—and it makes sense, looking at his victims. I'm going to go to the South side to try and draw him out. I need you to come with me."


	4. 4: Bad At Love

"Why the devil would I come _with_ you to terrorize _my_ neighborhood?"

"You know the area! You're a Serpent, for Pete's sake," Archie whisper-yelled, hiding his end of the conversation from whoever was around wherever he was. My eyebrows rose on my forehead as I came to a stop at my locker. What he was saying was ridiculous. But I knew then why he wanted me involved. He didn't want help in his task. He wanted a bodyguard.

My voice didn't match the level of offense I felt. "This is about protection? Oh, I see. You want me to come with you so your wimp butt won't get into trouble doing something you _should_ get in trouble for. You know what _I_ should do? I should tell Sweet Pea what you're up to and let him have his way with you."

"Diana, I get it. The South side is your family. But this is bigger than you."

Without another word, or chance for reply, his end of the call cut out and I pulled the phone from my ear with a scowl. He'd sounded so wrong. It wasn't Archie Andrews I was talking to. It was whatever hypnotized version of Archie that the Black Hood had conjured up. My body jolted when a hand grabbed my arm. Causing a shot of panic to speed through my veins a second before I heard Jughead's voice. "Diana," he said, as I whirled, shuffling back a step before I realized fully that it was him. "You need to talk to your boyfriend."

Exhaling, I tried to calm myself—and my heartbeat. "What did he do now?"

"He just told me he thinks Fangs should earn his stripes by taking out Archie. He said the Black Hood is a _hero_ for killing North siders."

It was like no one stopped. Nothing stopped. The hits just kept coming. My hands slid over my face and I sighed. "You've got to be kidding me," I mumbled, pinching the bridge of my nose. "Is this punishment for something? Is this karma telling me I need to make better choices? Because I already knew that." I gave a heavy sigh before stepping around Jughead and heading back toward the cafeteria, and he followed right along behind me.

I was not in the mood for this today. But it was ridiculous, the notion that what the Black Hood did was acceptable just because the victims weren't South siders. And I was not one to silence myself—as you've probably already gathered—even if the person I needed to be stern with was six foot five and the most intimidating person I knew. Sweet Pea, Fangs, and Toni were still at the lunch table when I arrived. Walking in a fast pace.

Making a B-line for their table. "So, what? Now killing people is okay?" I questioned, as I threw my arms out at my sides in a gesture, walking through the gateway of the metal fence segregating the Serpents from the rest of the cafeteria. Sweet Pea was the last to look up. But all three Serpents wore expressions of surprise. I came to stand just in front of the table and cocked an eyebrow expectantly.

Sweet Pea narrowed his eyes a little, "They're not just _people_ , D—they're _North siders_."

"It doesn't matter what side of town they come from," I narrowed my eyes right back at him. "The 'sins' they died for weren't even worthy of death. And none of the three victims openly hated the South side. They weren't our enemies. Even still—why would _killing_ someone just because they don't like you ever be _okay_ , Pea? The answer is _never_ , in case you were wondering."

"Why are you defending those people? They've done nothing but make your life _hell_ ," Sweet Pea pointed out, with a slightly risen tone, his annoyance evident in every aspect of his demeanor.

"It doesn't matter what they do to you! _You don't kill people_. It's _that_ simple!"

I shouted a little from sheer exasperation and a bit of annoyance. Toni was watching the situation closely from her seat beside Sweet Pea, eyes sporadically changing positions to get both sides. Fangs looked borderline nervous—leaned away from Sweet Pea a little, eyes rounded. Jughead stepped up beside me then, sliding his fingers around my arm and giving a pull. "Diana, come on. That's enough, okay? Calm down," he kept his voice quiet, almost whispering, as he tugged me back with him. I'd hoped that the look on my face was enough to tell Sweet Pea how utterly disappointed I was with his lack of a moral compass and skewed view.

Because a look was all I could give. I only caught a split second of the expression on his face that resulted, but it was enough to know it worked. Jughead practically dragged me away with him, out of the cafeteria. But it was honestly the best option. In the heat of the moment, it'd felt like my emotions weren't even mine. All of the stress from Archie's bone-headed decisions was making me act like a person I'd never seen before. At the time, I didn't have a reason. But I soon would.

Along with that knowledge, came a storm cloud. A single gray cloud that had been brewing, waiting, slowly making its way for us since the beginning of my new life on the South side. I'd known it couldn't have been that easy to be happy again. And I was right. It wasn't.

* * *

That night, I lay awake on the bed. All I could think about was Archie. Once again, the ginger demon was consuming my mind. Though, not for reasons you would expect. He was putting himself in an abnormal amount of danger. Coming to the South side, walking the streets alone, doing lord knows what. That is, until he got caught by a Serpent and was beaten half to death. I resolved within myself that I couldn't let that happen. But it was for selfish reasons.

I'd encouraged Archie to find out the truth about the Black Hood's attacks in the beginning. So if Archie got hurt after all of this, some of it _would_ be on me. It was guilt pushing me off the bed, pulling on my converse, and zipping up my Serpent jacket over a sweat shirt. The guilt was what kept me awake. Thinking that if I hadn't said anything he wouldn't be out there right then. I'd given Jughead, Betty, Toni, and Kevin an excuse that was less than believable.

 _I need some air so I'm going to go for a walk_. None of them stopped me regardless of their curious expressions. But Jughead told me not to stay out too late, with a knowing look. Like he was really saying _you need to sleep now more than ever_. I'd agreed and left the trailer without another word.

Not knowing where exactly he was wasn't a problem. If Archie came into the South side from Third Avenue, he'd be in the general vicinity of a familiar area. So I started there. The fresh air, the walking, relaxed my muscles a bit—though my mind still raced. I was halfway when I saw the first one. The first red circle spray-painted on a building. It was like following bread crumbs from there. A red circle every so often lead me right to him.

Rounding the corner of the street, I slowed to an almost complete stop, sighing in relief upon finding him unharmed. He was in the middle of painting a big red circle on a large door. One I recognized. But that wasn't what caused me to reach for him, alerting him to my presence. "Archie!" I grabbed the arm holding the paint can, and he froze, head snapping toward me in a jolt. "Stop! What are you doing? This isn't calling out the Black Hood—this is _vandalism_."

Archie sighed lightly and tugged his arm from my grasp. "Go home, Diana. You've already made it clear you want nothing to do with this."

"No. I said I didn't want to help you get yourself killed," I corrected, normalizing my tone.

His eyes remained on mine a moment, and he exhaled, thinking. "Then what _can_ you help with?"

"I can get you home in one piece," I slid my hands into my pockets as a chilly wind blew. "But you'd have to leave right now, and promise you won't try this again."

"Diana-" he sighed.

He would have continued whatever his thought was. But he was interrupted. My eyes had drifted over his shoulder at movement. It was Sweet Pea and Fangs, leaving the bodega, laughing about something. A bubble of panic began to fill in my chest. Archie twisted to see what I was looking at, eyebrows drawn, and he went rigid—seeing what I was seeing. It only took that split second for Sweet Pea to notice us. For his demeanor to change.

Sweet Pea and Fangs started walking the sidewalk toward us, and I grabbed Archie's arm. Archie looked to me with slightly concerned features. It was starting to look like he was understanding my previous worries. "You need to leave, Arch. _Now_ ," I pressed, urgently, seriously.

"Well, what do we have here?" Sweet Pea asked, striding up with Fangs at his side. Archie turned, his back to me, facing the incoming Serpents. Sweet Pea nudged Fangs with his arm in a gesture. "Can you believe this guy? And people say _we're_ the trouble makers."

"Pea, he's leaving," I stepped up beside Archie, pushing Archie back a step with a hand on the front of his shoulder.

Archie slid the paint canister into his backpack before slinging it onto his shoulders. He took steps forward, aiming to push through the blockade. But Sweet pea pushed Archie's chest, forcing him back, and my shoulders dropped with an anxious exhale. "This is South Side Serpent country. So get back to the North side, before someone gets hurt," Sweet Pea warned, eyes narrowed at Archie.

"Get out of my way or someone _will_ get hurt," Archie countered, defiantly.

Sweet Pea's lips curved into a devilish grin as he reached into his back pocket and pulled out his switch blade. "You just made a big mistake," he said, as the blade slid out. He looked triumphant, full of certainty that his knife and his appearance was enough to scare Archie off. I wrapped my arms around myself to ward off the chill.

"Sweet Pea," my words fell on deaf ears, but at least I could say I tried. "Please, put the knife away."

As my words just finished, Archie's hand dove into his jacket. And, in a second, he'd pulled out a _gun_. My eyes widened as my feet instinctively moved back a step. Archie pointed the weapon right at Sweet Pea. "Who made a mistake?" he questioned, waving it as Sweet Pea and Fangs began to slowly back up. " _Who_ made a mistake?!"

I reached out, " _Archie_ -!"

My hand grabbed his wrist and pulled. Fangs was already running down the sidewalk. Sweet Pea looked to be on the edge of bolting, eyes darting in a wide panic between me and Archie as he continued backing up. But he, too, followed the path Fangs had made on the sidewalk. Probably from my lack of response. Or it was the look I'd given him. The attempt I'd thrown out there of my best _run_.

Once he and Fangs were safely out of sight, I turned to Archie. He was breathing heavily—from adrenaline, no doubt—and he slid the gun away as I spoke. "I don't know why you have that thing, but you need to go, Archie," I told him, voice risen a bit in my own adrenaline-fueled emotions. "Go home, before you make this mess any bigger."

"What was I _supposed_ to do, Diana?" Archie questioned, defensively.

I thrusted my arms out at my sides, raising my voice, "I don't know—maybe don't threaten people with guns you shouldn't have?! Especially not my boyfriend!"

"He was going to kill me!"

" _I was handling it_!"

Archie sighed, looking away from me. Shaking my head, I turned on my heel, and started walking. I'd trusted that Archie would get the point and go back the way he came when I'd left him on the street corner. When he wanted to be, he was a smart guy. So I was confident he would be able to figure it out. My biggest concern was putting out whatever flames Archie just fanned. That new mission took me right back to the trailer park.

The lights were out in Sweet Pea's trailer. I tried the door. It was locked. So I sat on the concrete steps and waited. He would have to come home sometime. He did it every night—no matter how late, or early, it got. My skin was bumpy from the cold. But my veins raced hot with leftover anxiety. It'd left me jumpy, a bit jittery. The hope was that I could sit and wait long enough for me to calm down before I had to talk to Sweet Pea.

I didn't know what I was going to say. I didn't know what I was going to do. But I needed to make it clear that Archie was still off limits. Though, I doubted Sweet Pea would listen either way. Especially given my attitude toward him all day. It was ruined at the start of the day, when Jughead pulled me from our argument in the cafeteria. Then it was dodging, ignoring, being overall flippant. It was another display of my emotions feeling foreign.

Like some third party was guiding me and my decisions. These days I didn't know myself. Or how to handle what I was feeling. And my reactions were an unjust punishment for those around me. "Diana?" my head snapped up at the abrupt voice, eyes landing on Sweet Pea. He was walking toward the trailer with narrowed eyes. "What are you doing here?"

I pushed myself up to my feet. "Can we talk?"

"If it's about your psycho North sider friend, no."

He stepped past me, up the three stairs to the door. The attitude of him was worn, irritated, and uninterested. But this was something that couldn't wait. "Sweets, we _need_ to talk about this," I sighed, turning around to see him. He unlocked the trailer door and pushed it open, stepping inside without responding. Though, he'd left the door open. I took it as my cue to follow him in, so I did, closing up the door behind me.

Sweet Pea shrugged off his Serpent jacket and hung it by the door. He'd kept his eyes downcast, lips pressed thin in an obvious display of his annoyance with the situation. "So, talk. Tell me how innocent people from the North side are. You know, the ones with guns—the ones trying to lure serial killers into our neighborhood," he said, in contempt, turning in the living room to face me where I still stood by the door.

"Fear is getting to _everyone_ , okay? People are doing things they wouldn't normally do. This is _extremely_ abnormal for Archie. His dad was shot right in front of him, Pea! It's personal for him. But I know—with a little more work—I can talk him down and fix this," I explained, taking a shuffling step or two.

" _Fix it_? Diana, there's no 'fixing' this," he took a step forward, his voice coating in agitation as it rose. "He pointed a gun at me and my boys. I can't just let that go. You know that."

My every ounce of strength was focused on staying calm, not getting angry—even though that's all I itched to do. "Sweet Pea...I'm asking you—not just as your girlfriend, but as a fellow Serpent—to leave Archie Andrews alone and let _me_ handle it. _Please_."

"I can't do that," he shook his head firmly.

"Why not?" I spat the question, unable to hold back my irritation.

"A Serpent never shows cowardice! I'm not walking away like a dog with its tail between its legs—just like you didn't walk away in the basement of the Wyrm."

My muscles suddenly became rigid as my eyebrows knitted softly. "You...how do you know about that?"

"What, you think word doesn't get around? That I wouldn't find out?" he questioned, a bit rhetorically. "We're a family, Diana. We don't keep secrets like that from each other."

It was a shock to my emotions, to find out that something I'd been harboring from literally everyone was already public knowledge—at least, to the Serpents it was. I'd figured the higher ups would know, but not the whole gang. His last statement felt like a blatant dig, what with his drawn brow and narrowed eyes. I crossed my arms tight over my chest. "Don't act like you don't keep secrets, Pea. We both know you have a _lot_ more than I do."

He scoffed, "Yeah, but at least we talked about mine. We had an understanding."

"Yes. That apparently _you_ were the only one that got to keep some things to yourself."

"You think that violence is only okay when it works for you!" Sweet Pea threw the words at me, angered by them. "You beat a man to a bloody mess—but that's okay. I want payback for some North sider blatantly challenging the Serpents, and suddenly you're preaching about right and wrong!"

My blood boiled beneath my skin. "Will you _stop_?! Stop being a _Serpent_ for one second in your life and be a _human being_!"

"The answer is _no_ , Diana!" Sweet Pea resigned, keeping his voice high to match mine. My head recoiled—not only from the tone, or the words, but from the look in his eyes. His once warm brown eyes bore into mine with a newfound heat that pierced through my chest bone. "This is how it is. Take it or leave it."

He'd quieted down for his final statement, but it hadn't changed how I felt. It felt like I couldn't swallow. There was something too big in the way. Inhaling through my nostrils, I blinked hard, and averted my eyes to the flooring. Sweet Pea walked around me into the kitchen. I could tell by his silhouette and the sound of his footsteps. My heart was thumping in my chest as I turned halfway, just enough to see him, mustering up all the courage I had.

Curling my fingers into fists at my sides to anchor my emotions somewhere. "Do what you want. But a Serpent never betrays his own, and _I'm_ protecting Archie," I spoke loudly enough to hear, but it was almost trembling enough to be noticed. Sweet Pea stopped, turning around to face me, in the bedroom doorway. I shifted my eyes to his, inhaling a deep breath. "He's my friend. And I'm _going_ to fix this."

There was no needed reply. It was evident enough in the look of his features. The slope of his brow, how his jaw tightened. He'd felt betrayed. Like I'd chosen my side. And maybe I had? Archie had done some really stupid things. But he was a scared kid that didn't know how to react in his environment. It was changeable. Completely fixable. When I left the trailer seconds after speaking, I'd given the door a nice slam, putting the period on my statements.

Yes, I was a South sider. I lived on the South side. But I still had friends up North. As misguided as they were, they needed someone to push them in the right direction. If I could explain it all and get Archie to see things the right way, I could turn all of it around. And that was exactly what I was going to attempt. When I arrived back at FP's trailer, Betty and Jughead were snuggled into the couch, sleeping. So I walked quietly to the bedroom.


	5. 5: Bad Blood

It was another morning. Another morning of waking to the unrest of my stomach. The jolt of nausea caused by even opening my eyes pushed me out of bed, and I all but ran into the bathroom. The contents of my stomach revolted in a series of coughs and sputters until I was no longer actively retching any substance. There'd been a shuffle. A ruffling sound. But I didn't notice anything until I heard Jughead's voice, followed by hands on my shoulder.

On my knees in front of the toilet, I braced myself with palms on my thighs, eyes closed as I hunched over. Jughead held what hair could've been in the way aside a bit with one hand while the other soothingly circled the middle of my back. "It's okay, just take a deep breath," he spoke quietly, calmly. "It's okay, I'm here."

"I hate this," I mumbled, eyes tightly shut.

"I know. Just think—six more months, and it's all over."

I exhaled through thinly parted lips. "Wow, that's very optimistic of you."

"Hey, someone has to at least _try_ to see the positive side," the slight smirking smile was evident in his dryly sarcastic tone. "So, where'd you go last night? You didn't come home until late. I thought maybe you'd finally grown the nerve to tell Sweet Pea about Junior."

There was nothing in me that really wanted to answer. But I did, still a little too nauseous for it. "We had a fight. He wants to go after Archie—and I told him not to. I didn't mean to, but...I guess I kind of picked a side? To him I did, anyway. It's all just so _stupid_ , Jug. And I have no idea what I'm doing."

I hadn't opened my eyes since first throwing up. But, even still, the water filling them managed to slip through the cracks to roll down my cheeks. They were quiet. They were desperate. They were an emotional breakdown about to become too overwhelming to stop. They were the hours and the minutes and the seconds I'd spent trying to hold them in the night before. Yes, they were silent. But they were overflowing with hurt.

With all that was already going on, this was not what I needed. I could forget telling Sweet Pea about the baby anytime soon—what with our current positions. I'd made a small sound, a tiny squeak. But only from the strain of trying to stay quiet. Jughead scooted closer to me then, stretching out his left leg while keeping the right one bent, getting in the right position for his chest to bump my shoulder. He put his arms around me in a comforting tightness and I leaned into him, my right temple on his right collar bone.

"Diana, it's okay. We'll figure this out, alright?" he cooed, his hand stroking my hair. "You and me together. You _can't_ keep doing this alone. I'm here for you—no matter what's going on. You've still got me."

"I love you, Jug," my fingers gripped the fabric of his t-shirt as I sniffled.

His lips pressed to the top of my head, "I love you, too, Diana."

* * *

I sighed, walking up the front porch steps to Archie's door. According to Jughead, Archie had gotten suspended that day, thanks to his display the night before—waving a gun around in plain sight. It seemed like a reasonable next step for the faculty. But I doubted it was going to actually stop Archie from doing anything just as crazy, if not more so. My knuckles connected with the wood of the door, and I stepped back, sliding my hands into my Serpent jacket pockets.

It only took a short moment for someone to answer the door, but it wasn't Archie. It was Archie's dad. "Mr. Andrews," I greeted, surprised, but I smiled a little. "Um, is Archie home?" He seemed pleased to see me, too, but the exasperation deep set in his features was too ingrained from prior interaction to truly sound like it. Still, he smile politely back at me.

"Diana. Yeah, Archie's in the kitchen. Could you do me a favor—make sure he doesn't leave as soon as I drive away?"

I nodded, "Don't worry, I have plenty to keep him busy."

"Thank you, I'm sure you do. I'm just really worried about him," Mr. Andrews stepped through the door, leaving it wide open for me to enter in in the space he left behind. "I'm heading to the Town Hall. I'll be back later tonight." I could relate to being worried. The worst part was that I could relate being worried about _Archie_. My feet moved me inside the house, my hand pulling the door closed behind me.

The house felt empty, it felt quiet. Archie didn't look up as I moved into the kitchen. "Talk to me, Goose," my voice wasn't at all sarcastic. It was genuine and somewhat quiet. "What's going on in that red-haired head of yours?" I pulled myself up onto the stool next to him. He stayed hunched over, forearms resting on the island in front of him, looking onward at the cupboards across the room.

"I don't know, Diana..." he slowly shook his head. "I honestly don't know anymore."

"I know how that feels. But, Arch, something tells me you _do_ know," I squinted an eye, in an expression.

Archie finally looked up. His features were drawn in strong lines, defined by his displeased demeanor. "What? Did you come here to interrogate me? To tell me going to South side was stupid, and that I should just give up trying to stop the Black Hood? Don't bother, okay? Everybody else already did your job for you. I'm sick of hearing it."

" _Whoa_ , okay. I just came here to talk," I corrected, after my head recoiled.

"About how I'm going crazy?" his eyebrows popped challengingly.

My head tilted, giving him a _you're ridiculous_ expression. "Will you stop, please?"

Archie sighed, turning to face forward again. His shoulders were taut, jaw tight. It was like he was wound tighter than a singing doll. And it seemed like it didn't take much to make him snap. But even though I'd been lying about who I was through our relationship, Archie was not, and I knew more about him than I cared to admit. Exhaling, I rotated my position to face him on my stool. "Archie," I reached up, placed my hand on his shoulder. "Talk to me."

"What if I don't want to?" his eyes shifted to mine with a slight turn of his head.

"Then this would be really awkward."

His eyes moved downward as he paused. Then he shook his head, huffing a small chuckle, before sitting upright on his stool. "Why do you always make me laugh when I feel like hitting something?" he asked, a bit rhetorically, and his eyes roamed the cupboards across the room once again.

My shoulders pushed up in a shrug, "Your guess is as good as mine."

"I'll make you a deal. You talk first, _then_ I'll talk."

"What am I supposed to talk about?"

"How _you're_ doing. You want _me_ to talk about how _I'm_ doing—it only seems fair," he shrugged casually, but the corners of his lips tugged up in a small grin. It was just a game—a game to get the attention off of himself a little longer. But I played along, agreeing to the terms. Though I wasn't actually sure what specifically to say.

I inhaled, eyes hitting the ceiling in thought. "Um...well, my boyfriend thinks murder is acceptable as long as he deems it necessary—yet _I'm_ the hypocrite. My dad's going to prison. I am almost single-handedly raising my kid sister while maintaining a job. I think I'm going to need to get another one, though. Not to mention caring for a dog. Really the only positive thing in my life right now is Jughead. So...I guess I'm not doing as well as I could be."

My lips spread thin in a humorless, closed-mouthed smile across my face as I slowly bobbed my head. His eyebrows rose on his forehead in slight surprise of my words. When you laid it all out like that, it seemed like a dramatization. But it really wasn't. That was just my life as of late. "Wow. I'm sorry...I didn't know about at least half of that," he apologized, empathetically.

"You've been dealing with your dad," I shook my head, waving it away. "Now, come on, cough it up. It's your turn."

He sighed, dropping his shoulders. "I'm not doing the best. If I'm being completely honest, I'm just... _scared_. I'm scared of all of it. People I care about are getting hurt, losing their lives, and I feel completely helpless to stop literally _anything_. Diana, I don't...I don't know what to do. And it's like I just keep making one bad decision after another—but I can't stop! I just keep doing these _stupid_ things- and I can't- I can't-"

He was shaking his head, choking on the words in his throat. Through his confession, his eyes slowly became more and more glossed. Until now, near the end, when they began to spill. A surge of something filled my chest and I leaned forward. Wrapping my arms around him as he buried his face in my shoulder, fingers gripping at the back of my jacket. "Shh...Archie. Listen to me. There's nothing wrong with you. You went through something _so_ traumatic," I tried to be comforting, softening my voice. "Your brain doesn't know how to cope with what you've seen."

"How do I stop it, Diana?" he asked, adjusting to press his forehead into the front of my shoulder to better speak.

"Start by taking a deep breath and stop thinking. Think about the positives. Your dad is alive—he's getting better everyday. No one has gotten hurt in a while. The Black Hood hasn't come back. Nothing you feared would happen, happened. Everything's going to be okay," I answered, firm but still soft.

Archie pulled back to sit up, sniffling hard, and I retracted my hands to my lap. "Then why doesn't it feel like it?"

"I don't know," I shook my head sadly. "But this _will_ get better."

His eyes searched mine for something. Maybe a lie? Maybe a certain emotion? I'll never know what it was. I'll never know why he did what he did. Why he pressed his palm to the island top, the other at the base of my neck, leaning forward quickly to press his lips to mine. It was so fast—in a literal instant—and I didn't quite comprehend it. I hadn't felt someone else's lips for so long, that the difference in every aspect felt _wrong_.

My body caught up faster than my mind—placing a hand on the center of his chest and giving him a hard shove. He rocketed back on his stool, nearly tipping off the back, eyes snapping open wide. My mouth was hanging open in a look of disbelief. "Why would you do that?!" it came out sounding like the difference between a shriek and a growl. Archie shook his head, chest moving quickly, as his eyes remained wide.

He looked a bit dazed, a little stunned like a deer in a set of headlights. In the three seconds he'd been able to kiss me, I'd felt things I hadn't felt in months. I'd felt that same feeling I had the last time he kissed me and really meant it. My brain didn't know my body remembered what that felt like. Maybe Archie was feeling the same thing? Regardless, I slid off the stool almost instantly upon his silence. "This was a bad idea," I decided, as I walked for the exit. "I shouldn't have come here."

"No- Diana, wait! I'm sorry. I didn't mean to do that."

I was halfway up the hall when I heard Archie's footsteps, hurrying after me with a panicked voice. My feet stopped, and I turned on my heel, causing him to stop two feet away. I thrusted my arms out at my sides, popping my eyebrows, "You didn't mean to do it? Then why _did_ you, Archie? You're dating _Veronica_. Our ship sailed a long time ago. It's what you wanted—remember?"

"Diana, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have kissed you—it was way out of line," he said, seeming to come to his senses.

My arms folded over my chest as my lips tightened in a thin line. A vibration echoed up my left side. I only broke my stance to reach into my pocket and dig out my cell phone. The screen was lit up with a phone call from Toni. It could be a social call, but something about it spelled bad news. Just as I reached for the answer button, a knock sounded on the door behind me. My eyes shifted up to Archie. "You get that—I'll be right back."

I hurried just down the small hallway and into the tiny bathroom, closing and locking the door behind me. It was a more comfortable place to be than out there with Archie. But it also gave more privacy for whatever was about to be said. I hit answer, and held the phone to my ear. "Hey, what's up?"

"This is a bad idea, but I know you're up North right now. Fangs just told me Sweet Pea's going to find that North sider from last night," Toni's voice came through, a mixture of annoyance and worry.

My eyes fell closed as I dropped onto the closed toilet seat. "What? Are you sure about this?"

"I literally just saw him round up as many young Serpents as he could before leaving the Wyrm. He looked like he was on the war path. If I were you, I would stay as far away as I possibly could—especially in your condition. He's out for blood."

A strangled groan of a whimper escaped me. Voices began to echo in from the outside, but I tried to tune them out. They were all too incoherent to understand, anyway. My free hand anxiously gripped the sleeve of my sweater that poked out from beneath the leather of my jacket. "Toni, 'that North sider from last night'? He's my friend—I'm at his house right now," I said, before pulling my bottom lip between my teeth.

Toni's voice took a dramatic turn. " _What_ are you doing at his house?! You need to get out of there, Diana. _Now_."

"Thank you for the head's up. I've gotta go."

I ended my side of the call, sliding my phone away as I stood. If Sweet Pea was coming here with a brigade of young Serpents ready to fight, I needed to warn Archie. I pushed through the bathroom door and let my feet carry me to the living room on instinct. But they stopped cold in their tracks, barely in the archway, when I saw just who his new house guest was. Correction— _guests_. There was more than one. The entire Riverdale High football team.

My shoulders straightened instinctively, and my jaw set. They were sitting around on the chairs and couches in the living room, talking to Archie. Archie's head snapped toward me when I entered the room. "Diana-" he tried to speak, but another hot-headed Bulldog got to it first.

"Well, if it isn't the Serpent slut herself," Reggie commented, facial features slacked, eyes slightly narrowed at the corners.

I folded my arms across my chest defiantly, unmoving in every other respect. "Am I supposed to be offended?"

"What is she doing here, Andrews?" Reggie turned to Archie just across the room from him.

Archie stood, sighing. "First of all—shut up, Reggie. Don't ever talk about her like that again. She may be a Serpent, but she's still Diana. She's still our friend. Secondly, she's here because I want her to be. Anyone that has a problem with that can go ahead and leave. The door's right there."

His determined tone and serious expression caught me by surprised. But I couldn't help smiling a little, seeing the displeased looks on everyone's faces when no one had the guts to get up and walk out. "That's what I thought," Archie nodded once, before turning to face me.

"Arch, you gotta leave. All of you have to leave," I spoke up then, seeing my opportunity. "There's about a dozen Serpents with anger issues coming here right now."

Archie's eyebrows drooped, "What? How do you know that?"

"I'm a Serpent—I know these things," I tilted my head in a 'duh' expression.

My features panned out flat as a sound tickled my ears, pulling my head to the left, toward the front of the house. It wasn't hard to discern what was making the sound of a low rumble— _motorcycles_. I'd been too late. But I'd convinced myself it could still be turned around. Archie seemed to hear the sound, too, eyes drifting toward the front window. I hurried to the front door and peered through the windows in it.

I was right in assuming the home of the sound. Sweet Pea and three or four other Serpents were heading up the porch steps. My hand gripped the door handle, and I pulled it open without hesitation, taking a step onto the porch. The door fell closed lazily just behind me as I did. Sweet Pea's eyes narrowed on me as he and the other Serpents came to a stop just a couple of feet in front of me. "Diana?" he questioned, surprised and annoyed. "I should've guessed you'd be here."

"You don't need to do this, Pea. Go home—this is _not_ the time for this," I tried, keeping my voice firm.

I'd felt the pressure of the door behind me give way seconds before Sweet Pea's eyes shifted over my shoulder. Reggie wedged himself between my right side and the door frame. "You have terrible timing, bro," he said, before lowering his voice to continue. "Bulldogs eat Serpent's for lunch."

Archie, followed by the rest of the football team, surrounded the area behind me, just inside the door. Sweet Pea's lips upturned into a smirk. "We'll see about that. And the more the merrier," he took a step forward. Reggie shoved his arm up and into Sweet Pea's chest to hold him back.

My feet sidestepped while my hands pushed into Reggie's and Sweet Pea's chests, pushing them apart enough to step in between them. "Enough! No one is hurting anyone tonight," I demanded, tilting my head back to send burning daggers up at Sweet Pea. He only narrowed his eyes, thinning his lips in response. Suddenly I felt a pressure at my left shoulder blade, and my head turned that direction. Archie looked right into my eyes.

"Diana, it's okay. Back off," he encouraged, calmly.

My eyebrows furrowed. "What- no-!"

Thick arms then encircled my middle from behind and hefted my feet off the ground, causing a startled gasp to escape me. It was Reggie. I could tell by his smug voice. "Calm down, princess," he groaned, carrying me back several steps from the doorway. My arms were mostly pinned to my sides, but I wiggled my elbow up, aiming it for his face as I demanded to be put down.

" _Hey_ ," Sweet Pea barked the word in a heavily threatening tone, eyes turned into sharp knives. "Get your hands off my girl, before I _cut_ them off."

"Reggie. Come on, man," Archie twisted, giving Reggie a warning look.

Reggie dropped me, holding up his hands in surrender. Instinctively, as my feet touched hard ground, my fist went into the center of his abdomen. He doubled over with a gasping cough, holding his ribs, and I grabbed a fistful of his hair. "Don't _ever_ touch me again," I hissed, yanking his head back. "Understand?"

Reggie wheezed, "Understood."

My fingers loosed his locks with a shove and I straightened my jacket before walking back to the door. "You wanna fight? Fine, fight. But you do it _my_ way. No guns, no knives, no brass knuckles— _just_ your fists," I said, stepping up beside Archie, glancing between him and Sweet Pea. Reggie's actions made the craving to see his face cratered in all the more tempting. Giving me the push I'd needed to agree. It wasn't difficult to get both parties to agree to the rules.

They were too blood thirsty not to. I didn't like the idea of seeing Sweet Pea and Archie duke it out in the pouring rain. But that was exactly what I was going to have to do, regretting my involvement in either side, sitting in the front seat of one of the Bulldogs' jeeps. I'd only gone in this vehicle because that was the only space available. But I'd moved up to the front when all the boys piled out. It was like a slow motion sequence in a movie.

Both sides lined up, on either side of the road, and Archie walked out to meet Sweet Pea in the middle. My stomach was in knots. It had been the entire day. But this was the worst it'd felt yet. All ten fingers laced together, holding on tightly as I sat forward in anticipation. Archie wound back his arm and swung. His fist connected with Sweet Pea's face, and Sweet Pea went down onto the asphalt like a feather. My body instinctively lurched.

All hell broke loose at that point. The Serpents and Bulldogs ran at each other. Tackling, hitting, mingling into thrashing and body slamming piles of limbs on the road. It was all such a stupid idea. The worst idea. _How could I have ever thought this was a good idea?_ Regret, anxiety, worry, and a half dozen other unpleasant emotions filled my chest. After a moment, Sweet Pea did get up. And he went straight for Archie.

He punched Archie, knocking him down, then sent his boot into Archie's abdomen in a hard kick. I felt like I was going to throw up. That the guilt was going to swallow me. Through the raindrop-covered window, only so much could be seen. But I could tell Sweet Pea had kicked Archie more than once. And that was enough. I pushed through the car door, sliding out into the rain. I didn't bother closing it—I just ran.

Ran to the front of the parked cars and shouted, "Pea, stop!"

It was the loudest voice I could manage. Sweet Pea's head shot up and his eyes landed on mine. In this rain it was hard to tell. Hard to tell if what I was trying to say was coming through. But his expression softened from it's rage-fueled positioning and he began to back up. He turned on his heel and the others followed, racing to their modes of transportation.

I ran to Archie, dropping to my knees on the asphalt. "Are you okay?"

I'd had to shout to be heard. Archie nodded, and I pulled him up to his feet by his arm. Reggie and another Bulldog were helping Dilton Doiley toward the cars. Even through the haze, I could tell he was bleeding from a spot in his leg, where something dark stuck through his skin. This had gone too far. But I told myself there was nothing to be done about it then and helped Archie to the first available car.


	6. 6: Dusk Till Dawn

It consumed me—the worry. I'd walked to the trailer park in the rain, getting soaked through to my bones, fueled by the itch to see him. To make sure he was okay. It kept my blood racing, my heart pounding, and my lungs on fire as they heaved to keep up with my pulse the whole way there. I trotted up the steps to the trailer and banged my fist against the door.

"Sweet Pea? I know you're in there."

My voice didn't have to be so loud anymore, thanks to the momentary lull in the rain storm. There was a moment of silence. Followed by a shuffle, and then the door pulled open. Sweet Pea was still in his soaked clothes, his drenched hair falling into his face, outlining his less than pleased features. "What are you doing here, Diana-?"

As my fingers gripped the folds of his jacket, I took a step forward, pulling him down to me in one swift motion. Our cold, wet lips melded together. For a second, he was rigid in surprise. But then his body melted into mine, wrapping his arms around my middle to pin me against his chest, forcing my mouth open with his. It was a heat in the pit of my stomach. But it wasn't enough to stop the shaking that the cold had thrusted upon my skin.

In that moment, it was an understanding. It was a pooling of mutual worries and anxieties and pushing them all aside. Leaving behind only the pent up tension that's been between us for far too long. And it was intensity, depth that I'd never felt when kissing anyone before. Sweet Pea dropped lower a second, his hands coming to the backs of my thighs, and I hopped up as he lifted. I'd hooked my legs on his hips as he backed up, pushing the door closed with one hand to continuing carrying me in. He turned and dropped onto the couch, positioning me in his lap. Our lips never disconnected.

But I pulled back then, my eyes scanning his face. There was already a bruise forming beneath his left eye. There were a few scrapes elsewhere on his face as well. My hand slid onto the skin of his cheek and up to his eye, my thumb gently brushing the purple space. "I never wanted you to get hurt," my voice was only a whisper, what with being so close. "It was the _last_ thing I wanted-"

He lifted his hands to cup my face, "I know. I should've listened to you."

"I'll get some ice."

I inhaled a deep breath and climbed off him to stand. The lump in my throat was too intense to respond directly to his words in anyway. Walking into the kitchen in silence, I felt like an over emotional crybaby. I'd lost count of how many times I'd cried that week already. And I was feeling another moment coming on. I dug an ice pack out of the freezer and closed the door, then pattered back to the living room.

Sweet Pea was standing now. His soaked jacket and t-shirt lay on the coffee table, and he was just stepping out of his jeans as I arrived. "If you want to take off yours, I can put them in the dryer with mine," he offered, glancing at me as he laid the jeans on top of his other garments.

My muscles stalled in that moment. In that moment of sudden anxiety. If I took off my clothes, I knew, he would see the blatant change in my physique. So I quickly shook my head, turning it down. "No, that's okay. I prefer to air dry."

"Since when?" he questioned, picking up his clothes. "Whatever—it's fine."

He walked past me back toward the bedroom and I dropped onto the couch with an exhale. My lying capabilities had drastically flown out the window. They had been flying out for almost a week. I couldn't keep it from him, but I couldn't tell him. Not right then. It wasn't long before Sweet Pea came back to the living room, easing himself onto the couch to my right. I pulled my knees up underneath me as I turned to face him on the cushion.

"Here," I held up the ice pack to his eye, and he exhaled a deep breath as his shoulders dropped.

His other eye fell closed. "I don't deserve you."

"No mortal man does," I tried to joke. "But that's because I'm a goddess, remember? Like your tattoo?"

"I'm serious, Diana. I don't deserve you," his other eye opened and his hand gently encircled my wrist, tugging the ice pack and my hand away from his face to look at me fully. The lines of his face were etched with seriousness that caused me to tilt my head, eyes softening. "You're _so_ beautiful. You're smart, and you're funny, and sometimes you scare me. You shouldn't have to go through any of this, and I keep dragging you into it-"

I shushed him, edging closer to his side as I cupped his face with my hands. "Pea, don't talk like that. I'm flattered. But, if anyone on this planet deserves me, it's _you_. You're my whole world. And I love you so much."

The lump in my throat, the warmth of his brown eyes, and the sincerity to my words pushed a stray tear from my eye. But it wasn't alone. Though I tried to sniffle it back for as long as I could, the tears slowly rolled down my cheeks. Sweet Pea sat up straighter almost instantly, every featuring softening more than thought possible, "Baby...why are you crying?"

My hands fell to his shoulders, and he snaked his arm around my waist, his free hand reaching up to push my hair behind my ear. "I'm pregnant," I forced the words past my lips, daring myself to look him in the eye while I did it. The following silence was deafening. But I persisted. "I should've told you...I wanted to—but I didn't know how. I'm so sorry, Sweet Pea."

"You're pregnant?" he repeated the phrase, his tone unreadable as he sat completely still.

I sucked my lower lip between my teeth and bit down as I nodded my head. The fear of the incoming reaction was swallowing me, guiding the continuous tears out of my eyes. His hand came to rest on the right side of my jaw as he took in a breath. "So...I'm going to be a dad?" the words were small, unsure in their quietness. I nodded again. It was the only response I was emotionally capable of giving in that moment. "Diana...I love you so much."

His hand slipped to the back of my neck, and he leaned forward, his lips crashing into mine. I kissed him back in a drive of sheer relief. It coursed through my veins, loosening my shoulders and easing the slight nausea in the pit of my stomach. After a short moment, he'd pulled away suddenly, and his soft brown irises didn't leave mine. "When did you find out?"

"Almost a week ago," I'd admitted, timidly.

"I'm so sorry you thought you couldn't tell me."

Exhaling, the left side of my lips curved up. "There's something else you should know."

I adjusted my position to better sit on my ankles as my fingers gripped the hem of my soaked sweater. The fabric was already plastered to my body. It was surprising he had never noticed. But I tugged the wet cotton over my head and dropped in on the floor between the coffee table and the couch we sat on. "Give me your hand," I instructed, reaching out my own hand.

His eyes glowed with curiosity and the lingering rush of the news. He eagerly gave me his hand, but not before asking, "What is it?"

"Just feel this," I couldn't help a soft chuckle, pressing his hand to my lower abdomen. There wasn't an incredibly large lump—just a small slope. But the important thing was that it was noticeable. There was an obvious difference now. Slowly, my hand atop his, I guided his palm over the swell. "Supposedly, Sweet Pea Jr. is about the size of a lime right now. He's twelve weeks old."

Sweet Pea's lips broke into a wide smile at my words, his lit up eyes fixated on our hands. It was undefinable—the feeling, the warmth that spread through my chest seeing his reaction. It pushed my lips into a smile of their own at the overwhelming relief and happiness mixing in my gut. "He's going to look just like his mom," he commented, a certain sparkle to his eye.

I'd let go of his hand then, standing up on my knees to move forward, placing my hands on his shoulders as I climbed onto his lap. His arms slid around my waist as I did, and his eyes followed mine. " _I_ think," I said, sliding my hands up his shoulders and neck to his cheeks. "That he should look just like his father."

"Maybe we'll get lucky and he'll look like both of us?"

"I'd be okay with that."

I nodded, returning his smile. He barked a laugh and pulled me forward, his hands flat against my back, and I leaned down to meet his lips halfway. Taking them between mine in a way I hadn't before. With a purpose, a depth, and a love I hadn't before. The idea of parenthood was terrifying. But having Sweet Pea with me made the terrifying turn into only a small fear. Like we could do it all and it would turn out just fine. And maybe it would?

Maybe we would turn out to be better parents than ours were? Just by the look in his eye, when his hand was on my stomach, I could already tell Sweet Pea would be the best father anyone could ask for. All it took was a simple look. Call it a first-time mother's intuition. But it was a confidence boost regardless.

* * *

I'd only dozed off for a short moment before a loud banging startled my eyes wide open. Sweet Pea jerked back beneath me, craning his neck to look at the door. "This is the Sheriff's Department," a familiar voice, one that only could belong to Sheriff Keller, spoke through the door. "Open up." My eyes instinctively shot to the nearest clock. _12:47AM_. Sweet Pea swore under his breath and pushed back the blanket that was over us, causing me to push myself up so he could slide out.

He flew through the kitchen and into the bedroom in all but a flash, and I groped the floor for my sweater. It was no surprise that the Sheriff would show up at Sweet Pea's door when you boiled it all down. If Dilton was stabbed, he would go the hospital. Then it would become public knowledge and the police would get involved. Dilton would be forced to name names—as if he'd have a problem with that—thus bringing the Sheriff to this trailer.

I'd found my sweater, crumbled and crisped from drying out in a wad on the floor. As I stood to put it on, Sweet Pea returned to the living room fully dressed, and I just barely had the reflex capacity to catch the t-shirt he threw at me on his path to the front door. "Pea, what are you going to do?" I asked, in a hushed voice, as I pulled the clean shirt over my head.

"Just stay here," he held up a hand in a gesture.

Then he pulled open the door, taking one step out, before pulling it closed behind him. I gave a grumbling sigh and plucked my hoodie from the rack by the door. I'd shoved my hands through the sleeves as I sidled up to the window on the opposite side of the door, watching carefully through the barely open shades. The Sheriff looked less than pleased. But he seemed to be keeping a level head. All I got were muffled, unreadable voices.

I could make out Sweet Pea's flippant attitude, his voice risen higher than the Sheriff's. No matter what that boy did he couldn't be anything other than _loud_. When he was sad, angry, happy—the emotion didn't matter. The two deputies with the Sheriff began to grab Sweet Pea to put cuffs on him. And that's when I hurried to the door, whipping it open. Sheriff Keller's eyes snapped to me as I appeared on the small cement slab of a porch.

"What are you doing here, Diana?" he asked, in a tone only a father would use.

Sweet Pea sighed heavily as the deputies wrestled cuffs on his wrists, pinning his arms behind his back. But his head shot up the second the Sheriff spoke my name, and his eyes met mine. "Go back inside, baby," he encouraged, a bit urgently. "I'll be fine. Just go inside." I knew he was serious. I knew he was probably right. But I didn't move other than to fold my arms over my chest.

"Why are you cuffing him?" I questioned Sheriff Keller.

"We just need to ask him a few questions, but he refused to come down to the station voluntarily," he answered, simply.

My eyes rolled toward Sweet Pea, who wore a guilty downward curve of his lips with downcast eyes. "I'm calling Tall Boy," I stated, directing it at Sweet Pea. "I don't care if he's sleeping—I'm waking his butt up and dragging him to the station." I waited to move, despite my words, until they'd gotten Sweet Pea in the back of a cruiser. Then I turned on my heel and pushed through the front door, marching right to the coffee table to get my cell phone.

Calling Tall Boy was the least of the problems I was facing that night. After that semi-awkward call, I texted Jughead to tell him where I'd be if he needed me in the middle of the night. Then I changed into my jeans and slid my feet into some boots before heading outside. There was no way that I was walking all the way to the station. No. I was taking the motorcycle. In all reality, it probably wasn't the best idea. But I didn't really care.

I'd needed to get somewhere fast, so I used the best transportation for the situation available. Though misguided it was really rather simple. When I got to the station, it was just after one. My eyes were dry, my head felt groggy, but I pushed through it and went straight to the front teller counter. "Hi, I need to speak to Sheriff Keller," I'd said, to the woman behind the glass.

"Diana," I turned my head, my eyes landing on the Sheriff himself. He was walking toward me from a hall I knew lead to the interrogation rooms. "There's really nothing you can do here other than take a seat and wait. This could take a while, considering his lack of cooperation."

I turned toward him as he approached, "He's a minor without proper counsel. You shouldn't be talking to him at all."

"I understand your frustration—I do. But a kid was stabbed tonight. We take that kind of thing very seriously—and Mr. Doiley claims Sweet Pea was apart of the group that jumped him," Keller explained, calmly, placing his hands on his hips from where he stood a foot or two in front of me.

"Sweet Pea didn't jump Dilton, Sheriff," I crossed my arms.

"And how might you know that?"

"Don't say another word," out of seemingly nowhere, Tall Boy's voice rang out just before he stepped up beside me, edging on coming between me and the Sheriff. "I'd like to have a talk with you, _Sheriff_." Tall Boy sounded less than pleased. Sheriff Keller sighed, but he gestured for him to be followed as he started down the hall away from me. Tall Boy flashed a look over his shoulder before following Keller away. A look I knew well.

It was his typical _don't do anything stupid_. He'd perfected that look after so many years of dealing with reckless minors. I used to be, and probably still am, considered one of those minors. I sighed, letting my shoulders drop. Sitting in one of the chairs in the waiting area seemed like a good idea at the time. But I couldn't hold still. It was tapping my foot, or twiddling my thumbs, or picking at my hoodie's draw strings—anything to keep _moving_.

The thought was killing me more than anything else. It was the sheer helplessness. Sure, Keller had nothing on Sweet Pea that could actually connect him to anything that went down tonight. But it didn't stop me from worrying. It didn't stop my heart from beating too fast, or my mind from going straight to when they arrested FP. They took FP to an interrogation room and he never came out.

It was ten minutes of sitting in the chair alone. Ten minutes until Jughead darted through the front doors of the station with wide eyes that scanned the room in one wide sweep, before they landed on me and relaxed. "I got your text," he said, walking quickly toward me. "What in the _world_ did I miss?"

I stood as he arrived, exhaling to calm myself. "Sweet Pea brought a bunch of the Serpents to Archie's house. Long story short, the Bulldogs versus Serpents game ended in a draw, but Dilton got a knife in his leg. So Keller dragged Sweet Pea in to question him. I don't know who _else_ got dragged into this hell hole, but-"

"Wait, _hold_ on. There was an all-out brawl? Why were _you_ involved?!" he questioned, tone laced with angered worry.

"I was trying to play devil's advocate."

"I thought that's what dating _Sweet Pea_ was for."

My head tilted as my eyes narrowed, "Being friends with Archie, actually. But thanks for that."

Jughead sighed, standing quietly a moment as he looked at me. "This is getting really out of hand, Diana," he finally said, before dropping into a seat opposite mine. I sat as he continued. "I don't know. Maybe you shouldn't tell Sweet Pea about the baby. Just skip the country one day, change your name, and make a living raising alpacas in a place no one can pronounce the name of."

"I, uh...I kind of already told him, Jug," I squinted an eye in a gesture.

His eyes became just slightly rounder, and he scooted to the edge of his chair. "Well? How'd he take it?"

"Surprisingly great," my mind went to earlier in the night, when I told Sweet Pea about the baby—the following events making my heart flutter. I cleared my throat, leaning back in my chair. "He was really supportive about it. He wants to raise the baby with me."

"And that's what you want?"

"Yeah. I mean, I didn't want to make up my mind until I'd told Pea. I didn't get attached to the baby as much as I did the idea of it all, you know? Just- the thought of being a mother is really scary, but I just keep smiling whenever I think about actually getting to hold this thing," my words were true—I was smiling even while I was talking about smiling at the thought of holding the baby.

The corners of Jughead's lips pulled up as he sat back in his chair. "Does this mean I'm going to get to be an uncle?"

It was rhetorical in nature, because he knew exactly what it meant. You could tell by the smug look to his smile. I didn't get the chance to reply. Because Jughead's face washed as he glanced up and over my shoulder. Eyebrows knitting, I twisted in my seat to follow his line of sight. Tall Boy was walking toward the exit just past us with Sweet Pea and Fangs in toe. Tall Boy looked like he was about to actually hit someone.

Fangs just looked done, tired, and probably—knowing him—hungry for night breakfast. I pushed myself up from my chair as Sweet Pea's eyes connected with mine. He sighed, moving past Tall Boy in a long stride to wrap his arms around my shoulders, pulling me into his chest. "Thanks for calling Tall Boy," Fangs said. "Keller wasn't giving us _any_ of our rights in there." I'd pulled away from Sweet Pea, but he kept an arm around my shoulders, attaching me to his side.

Jughead stood, with a shake of his head. "Doesn't really surprise me, to be honest."

"Let's get moving. We don't want to be in here any longer than we gotta be," Tall Boy said.

Fangs was the first to head for the door, and Sweet Pea pulled me along with him to follow. Jughead wasn't too far behind us. It was almost like Tall Boy was walking behind us kids to make sure no one tried to keep us there. Like he was flanking us to keep an eye out. And maybe he was? Maybe he'd seen it happen before? He probably had. And it wouldn't surprise me at all.


	7. 7: Scar Tissue

I'd collapsed almost as soon as we got back to Sweet Pea's trailer. Now more than ever, Sweet Pea seemed to need me there with him. Like it wasn't as much of an option to sleep at FP's trailer as it used to be. Because as soon as he'd gotten into bed behind me, his arms tightened around my middle and nose pressed to the back of my neck. And I knew there was no getting out of it.

When the sun burned my eyelids, I'd woken up from the inability to keep my eyes closed any longer. The weight on my body was not surprising in the slightest. Sweet Pea had his arms around my middle, his left temple against my chest bone.

His abdomen veered off but his leg was draped across my knees. He was snoring softly, eyes closed in ignorant bliss, chest rising and falling almost in sync with mine. I smiled softly, guiding my fingers through his tousled black hair. Then my eyes shifted to the clock on the nightstand. It was just after eleven. There was no point in even attempting to get up and get to school at this point. So I didn't bother waking him.

Besides, he'd looked too peaceful to disturb as it was. He surprised me when he stirred, lifting his head, and moving up my body the sparse inches before he reached my neck and shoulder—placing slow, sloppy kisses onto the crook of my neck. I'd melted into the pillow and tipped my head back, letting my eyes fall closed. The warmth on my skin felt so soothing yet it caused my heartbeat to hasten at the same time. His lips slid up my neck, just past my jawline to my ear.

"Good morning, gorgeous," his voice was a husky whisper that made me shudder.

I turned my head, causing my nose to brush against his in result. "Good morning, handsome."

His hand suddenly slipped just under the hem of my t-shirt—the one he'd thrown me last night, one that happened to be his—and spread his palm flat on my lower abdomen. More specifically, the small swell there. "How're you feeling?"

"Surprisingly not as nauseous as I could be," I answered, breathlessly, as his lips fell to my neck again.

There were a handful of kisses there before he pulled back almost completely, holding himself up with a palm flat on the mattress. And my eyebrows rose, smiling a little through a chuckle, waiting for his next words. "When are we telling everyone else?" he asked. "And by _everyone_ , I mean the Serpents. You know they're going to find out sooner or later."

I nodded a little, exhaling. "I know. I guess...there isn't really anyone else I was scared to tell. But this _can't_ get back to my dad—not yet."

"Agreed. That's probably something best done in person. Or...maybe telling him behind bars is better? You know, so he can't kill me yet?"

"He wouldn't try to kill you, Pea," I chuckled, shoving his shoulder at the ridiculous notion. "He might be a little ticked off, but he'd settle down. Why the sudden interest in this topic? Planning an announcement party already?"

His lips curved into a smirk. "Fangs was gonna come over this morning, but I was going to tell him to leave if you didn't want him to know."

Chuckling a little, I shook my head, "That's really sweet of you. I don't care if Fangs knows."

"Are you hungry?" he smiled down at me, like a child on their birthday. Eyes lit up, teeth showing, with every line of their face drawn with happiness. It was a good look for him. It was a look I could get used to seeing. "I could make you something?"

"I am a _little_ hungry..."

"I'm on it."

He pushed up and swung his legs over me, off the edge of the bed, causing a laugh to bubble out of me as he quickly left the room. Shaking my head, I smiled my way into the bathroom. Sweet Pea hadn't ever displayed this much energy in the morning for our entire relationship. But I took it as a sign that things were on the right track. I decided to take a shower, running the water and peeling off my clothes before stepping in behind the curtain.

There was an obvious difference to life before he knew and life after. It felt so relaxed, so carefree. And I honestly didn't feel like I cared who knew about it. Eventually, people would start to be able to tell I was pregnant anyway. There was no one else I needed to hide from. It was a bit intimidating, though—the thought of my North side friends finding out. But I figured being upfront and blunt about it, with as much confidence as possible, would be best.

Just get them alone—or all in a room together—and rip the band-aid off. It felt good to stand beneath the water and warm my skin, especially after the freezing temperature my skin sunk to in last night's rain. Once I was good and ready, I turned off the water. Wrapping a towel around myself and stepping out, walking into the bedroom to get some clean clothes, then pattering back in to change where I wouldn't get water everywhere.

It was a tank top and a clean pair of black jean shorts. The most comfortable outfit I could think of. The tank top was a bit tight, but only over my stomach. I would have to reason within myself that most of my clothes, for a while, would not fit how they used to. And it was only going to get worse after this stage. For now, I told myself it didn't matter, and dried my hair with the towel. I dried it, brushed it, and pulled it into a low ponytail.

Then I went to find Sweet Pea. I was adjusting my ponytail holder when I walked into the kitchen. Apparently right into a conversation between Sweet Pea and Fangs. Fangs stood near the archway between kitchen and living room, arms crossed, shoulder leaned into the wall. His eyes did a double take when I stepped in, landing on my face for only a split second before sliding down, widening when they ended up on my stomach.

The faded gray color of my tank top wasn't the most dense color, and it left for making it just slightly too thin. Either way, you could tell things were different. Fangs' lips made a bit of an 'O' as he adjusted his position on the wall, drawing Sweet Pea's attention to me. Sweet Pea was braced against the counter at his lower back, arms folded over his broad chest. I stopped just past the door way with an eyebrow raised. "You okay, bro?" I asked Fangs, smiling a little.

"Sorry- uh- but, Diana, you're-"

" _Pregnant_ ," Sweet Pea finished, pointedly, as his eyes moved back to Fangs. Obviously only finishing the sentence so that Fangs wouldn't say 'fat'. But it was still endearing to hear him say the word out loud. A word I couldn't say out loud until just days ago.

"Yeah...I was gonna say she _looked different_ —but that works, too," Fangs nodded a little, and I chuckled once before walking over to Sweet Pea, leaning into him as I slid my arms around his torso. His arms found their way around my shoulders a second later. Fangs cleared his throat a bit, standing up a little straighter against the wall. "So, uh, when did _that_ happen?"

"Almost thirteen weeks ago," I answered, my left temple against Sweet Pea's shoulder.

"Well, congratulations, guys. This _is_ a happy occasion, right?"

The joking, sarcastic nature of his words was evident in his tone and in his eyes. Sweet Pea grabbed the dish towel off the counter beside him and leaned forward to whip Fangs with it, and Fangs lurched back in a series of chuckles. "Ugh, please—no contact sports before breakfast," my hand rested on my stomach, an attempt to ease the slight nausea. "I'm getting sick just thinking about moving that fast."

"Babe, you gotta eat something. Sit down."

Sweet Pea pushed off the counter, guiding me to the table with his hands on my shoulders. It was the gentlest of grips. The softest of pushes. Just enough to move me to where I needed to be. I eased myself into a chair while Sweet Pea moved back to the stove area, and Fangs dropped into the chair across from me at the table. He leaned forward on his folded forearms. "I hope you know I'm only going to refer to the bun in the oven as Little Pea," he smiled at me.

Sweet Pea snorted as he opened the refrigerator. " _Little Pea_?"

"Hey, don't question perfection," Fangs defended, causing me to laugh a little. He moved his eyes back to me, resuming his carefree demeanor, as he continued his original thought. "When are you due? I need to know when to have his jacket ready."

My lips curved up, "June fifteenth."

Fangs opened his mouth, but a dense buzzing interrupted, echoing into the kitchen from the living room. Sighing, I pushed myself up from the table and pattered into the living room. It was my cell phone. I'd left it on the coffee table last night and never came back out to get it. But as my eyes fixed on the caller ID, a rueful drop hit the pit of my stomach. "I have to answer this," I said, grabbing the phone before walking to the door. Pulling on my jacket, I said, "I'll be right back."

Sweet Pea turned around, opening his mouth to say something—most likely to stop me. I'd only just caught it before I stepped out the door and closed it behind me. The phone still buzzed in my hand as I walked in the opposite direction of the trailer. I'd recognize the number before I'd ever have to see the name. Holding the phone up to my ear, I answered, "What do you want?"

"Well, don't we sound _chipper_ this morning?" Penny Peabody spoke on the other end, sounding like she was grinning, as per her usual. " _I've_ got a job, _you_ owe me a debt— _we_ have a phone call. That simple. I'm gonna need you to swing by the office tonight."

Eyebrows furrowed, I stopped walking. "Why didn't you just tell me this later, then?"

"Oh, I'm sorry- you were busy, weren't you? Is it the boyfriend or the brother this time? Or, _do I care_?"

"If I could poison you through the phone, I would."

"I know. And that's what I love about you, DJ. Nine o'clock, my office—or you'll regret it. See ya!"

With her ending goodbye sounding sickeningly upbeat, her end of the line cut out, and I sighed as I locked my phone. I knew it wouldn't be long before Penny called me. There was no way she could keep herself away any longer. But I wished it could've waited until I'd actually had a chance to enjoy the lack of pressure and stress I'd put myself under. Then I reminded myself why I demanded to take Jughead's place to begin with. And suddenly it didn't feel so bad anymore.

* * *

"I'm not wearing those," I shook my head defiantly, much to Toni's dismay. She held up a pair of ugly looking Army green jeans with a now deflated look, eyebrows lowering on her forehead as she tilted her head. We'd been shopping at one of the only good boutiques on the South side for almost an hour. And it was becoming more apparent by the second that we had _entirely_ different fashion senses.

Toni gave me a look, "These are _maternity_ pants. They have an elastic patch on the front so you can wear them no matter how big your bump gets! And they have a _ton_ of pockets."

"Why would I need that many pockets?" I questioned, as I snatched the pants from her to examine them. "I don't have anything to put in them."

"Not _yet_ —but you never know, you might need them," Toni answered.

Sighing, I eyed the pants, holding them up against the rack in front of me. Yes, they weren't exactly something I would be caught wearing—but she did have a point about the elastic. I could wear them whenever and it would most likely still fit. "Alright," I caved, folding up the pants and putting them in my basket. "You've convinced me." Toni smiled triumphantly and wandered around the rack, eyeing the clothes on the opposite side.

It was quiet a moment before she spoke again. "When are you going to tell your old man?" she asked, surprising me a bit. My eyes flicked up, to her head just barely above the circular line of clothes between us. It was a hard question to answer. FP didn't like Sweet Pea and I dating. With what happened when he found out that was going on, I could only imagine the chaos that would ensue if I told him I was pregnant with Sweet Pea's baby.

At sixteen, no less. "I don't have a set date or anything," I shrugged, giving the only answer I could think of. Toni hummed in skepticism as her fingers sifted through the clothing options, lips screwed up to one side with narrowed eyes that told me I wasn't going to hear the end of this just yet.

"That's code for 'I'm too chicken, so probably never'," she mused.

I gave a toss of my eyes. "Give me a break, Topaz. Why don't you get pregnant and tell me how easy it is to tell everyone you know."

"I wouldn't have a problem telling the Serpents," Toni looked up at me, with serious features. "We're all family. That baby's going to have a few _dozen_ cousins, aunts, uncles, brothers, and sisters. Maybe even a few grandparents somewhere in there. The point is—we'll all support you. _Both_ of you. It won't be like Polly."

That last phrase was what caused me to pause, my shoulders drooping. I'd told Toni about Polly earlier in the shopping trip. How she'd gotten pregnant, and Jason wanted to run away to raise the baby together, and yet he died while Polly was stuck raising the baby—or _babies_ —by herself with her psychotic mother. The fear there was real and shouldn't be overlooked. But Toni's words of reassurance were genuine and probably true.

I exhaled, nodding slowly. My eyes drifting to the left as I thought. Coming out and telling the Serpents wouldn't be too hard when you boiled it all down. And there wasn't much FP could do behind bars. But it was still that deep-set anxiety about the possibility of rejection that kept me tight-lipped. "I don't know...telling the Serpents wouldn't be so bad, I guess," I agreed, turning back to Toni.

"We could throw you guys a little announcement party at the Wyrm, make it a bit easier?" Toni suggested, a smile pulling up the corners of her lips. "Just rip the band-aid off and tell everyone at once."

"Well, I don't think Sweet Pea would hate that idea."

She chuckled, "Are you kidding? He'd help me plan it."

"Alright, alright. We'll have an announcement party. But I have a couple extra people to add to the loose guest list," I agreed, forcing two shirts apart on the packed metal bar to be able to see one of them. "And, please, no strippers. This is a pregnancy announcement—not a bachelor party. Nothing extravagant either, okay?"

"Roger that," Toni gave a mock salute, keeping her smile in its place.

It pushed up my lips in their own tiny little smile. Having one big gathering to tell everyone at once was the perfect scenario. All you'd have to do is say it once and get it over with for the rest of the pregnancy. And there was no doubt in my mind that the majority of the Serpents would be congratulatory. It was just getting the nerve up to tell FP, and then I was home free. That's what I'd thought. Until my ears were left ringing with the sound of a male voice.

A voice I'd made it a point to forget. Ben Blackwood. "Diana?" my head snapped up, a chill settling into the skin of my spine as my eyes fixed on him, standing just a few feet from the rack Toni and I sifted through. He took slow steps forward with a carefree expression. "It's good to see you."

"You _know_ this guy?" Toni asked me, tipping her head toward Ben.

Her features were stern, focused. Like if I had said no, she wouldn't have hesitated to beat him down. "Not anymore," I shook my head, turning back to the rack in front of me. My eyes sporadically glanced up at Toni. She didn't look away from Ben, nor did her somewhat disgusted expression fade.

Ben cleared his throat, "How are you doing these days?"

"Ignore him," I sighed, directing the words at Toni.

"I don't appreciate your attitude," Ben spoke sharply.

That's when my head snapped up for a second time, eyes narrowed. " _I_ didn't appreciate being manipulated, mocked, and beaten," I snapped, my knuckles turning white where they gripped the fabric of a hanging shirt. "Did you forget that already? Because I didn't. And I won't hesitate to take it to the Register. Alice Cooper's daughter is dating my brother, so I think I can get it front page."

Ben seemed to calm at that, relaxing. "I didn't forget, Diana. And I regret it everyday."

"Only because you got caught," Toni spoke up, her expression now fully disgusted.

"Look—I only came over here because I've been meaning to track you down and give you this," he took a couple steps forward, and I turned a little—slightly stepping back—as he held out a hand. In his hand was a small, white envelope. My eyes looked from him to the envelope and back again. I could feel Toni's eyes on me. There was a part of me that said it wasn't good idea. That I wanted nothing from him. But the rest of me was too curious.

So I reached out, and I took the envelope. "What is it?" I'd asked, breaking the seal with a quick swipe of my finger. The contents felt heavy, whatever they were. Heavy and oddly shaped. Ben exhaled before responding, causing me to glance up, only to find him uncomfortably sidestepping in the opposite direction of Toni. Like the five-foot-three girl in the leather jacket was the scariest thing he'd ever seen. With the way her eyes narrowed, she probably was.

"It's your house—the keys, the deed. I meant to give it to you before but...well I didn't get the chance," he replied, looking to me again. "I bought it shortly after the adoption finalized. I figured it belonged to you more than it did to me...maybe this would make up for some of the things you've had to deal with in the last couple years."

In other words, _I hope this is a good enough peace offering to make myself feel better_. Sure enough, inside the envelope was some folded paper, along with a set of two keys on an old key ring. The triangular piece of leather used as a key chain on the ring was Bulldog's. It surprised me that Ben had never taken it off. But I squared my shoulders and lifted my eyes to meet Ben's, acting seemingly unaffected. "How do I know you won't try to take it back?" I questioned.

"It's in your name. I can't," Ben answered. Then, before walking away, he added one last sentence. "I hope you two are doing well, wherever you are." Then he was gone and I was left with a ball of confusion and mixed emotions in the disguise of a white envelope.


	8. 8: Machine Heart

"You want me to do _what_?" My jaw was practically on the floor, left eyebrow as high as it could go without flying right off my forehead. Alice made a _pfft_ and readjusted her position behind the desk. Like it was absurd for me to question anything she'd just said—even though it was all I'd wanted to do.

She sighed, seeing my expression of utter confusion wasn't going away. " _Please_ , close your mouth before you catch flies. This isn't about how we feel toward each other. This is about Riverdale, the drug trade, and exposing the truth."

"Yeah, I got that...but why _me_?" I asked, relaxing a bit into my chair.

"You're an informant on the inside—what with you going to South Side High, being a South Side Serpent, working at Pop's. You have your fingers in virtually everything," Alice explained, leaning forward into her desk a little, speaking with a little too much enthusiasm. "And I'm willing to pay for whatever information you can bring back to this desk."

That was when my features relaxed, and my legs crossed at the knee to match my folded arms. "How much?"

"Payment will change depending on content but, if it's good, I'm willing to pay upwards of two hundred."

"Two hundred dollars? For intel on the drug trade?!" I questioned, in astoundment. My shoulders dropped back against my chair as I slowly shook my head. "Wow...you _are_ desperate."

Alice sighed again, her fingers working to straighten the daily planner on her desk, before her eyes shifted up to mine again. Looking at me with a serious expression, mixed with her annoyance at my constant questioning. "Are you interested in this arrangement or not?"

I hummed. "Mm, that depends."

"On?" she cocked a brow.

"If you'll stop harassing the South Side in the Register without any evidence of wrongdoing," I answered, simply. Alice's scoff only brought me to sit up more, leaning forward toward the desk as I continued a little more forcefully. "There's no proof as to who the Black Hood is, but you've already named him a Serpent. _That's_ the kind of crud that isn't going to fly if I work with you."

She sighed for a final time, eyes down at her desk, readjusting a pencil. Then she looked up at me, "I _suppose_ I can work with that."

"Good. Because you've got yourself an inside man."

* * *

It was just after my shift at Pop's when I walked into the tattoo parlor. The whole scenario was pretty easy. It was the calmest thing I'd ever done. Because I knew I had to. There was no way out. So I pushed through the beaded partition and into Penny's 'office'—if you even could call it that. She was sitting behind her desk, writing something on some paper in an open manila folder. But her head popped up when I entered the room.

The right corner of her lips sprung up, "DJ, you finally made it. Have a seat."

She gestured out with the hand holding the pen, toward the chair on my side of the desk, and continued scribbling on the paper. Without much else to do, I sat in the chair. She was only writing for a moment longer before she dropped the pen and closed the folder. Setting it aside in a stack, she looked at me. "How're we feelin'? Nervous? You shouldn't be—this'll be easy."

"I'm not nervous," I shook my head.

"Good. Okay, so, the gist is that I need you make a delivery for me to a warehouse in Greendale. Think that's do-able?" she asked, leaning her folded forearms onto the desk. When my only response was an unwavering expression of minor annoyance, she smiled. "Well, you don't really have a choice, so...it's do-able. The crate's in a truck out back. Here's the address. Get it there before midnight. Got it?"

She slid some paper across the desk and I plucked it from the wood as I stood. "Got it," I nodded once, lips pulled tight. I stepped around the chair and started for the beaded curtain. That was when her voice came from behind, stopping me with words I honestly hadn't expected. She wasn't supposed to know enough to say those things. And yet, she did. I swiveled on my heels as she spoke, my eyebrows rising. "And no getting sick in the truck, alright?" she said, her nose crinkled. "I don't care how far along you are—you do _not_ throw up on the upholstery."

Now my eyebrows lowered, eyes narrowing, "How'd you know I was-"

"Pregnant? I have my ways. And you're not exactly doing a good job of hiding your bump," she shrugged up her shoulders.

With a roll of my eyes, I walked through the hanging beads. Sure enough, the truck Penny mentioned was in fact behind the tattoo parlor. It was unlocked, with the crate in the bed, and the keys on the driver's seat. It was a beat up stick shift. But that wasn't a problem. I started the truck and pulled out onto the road. The way to Greendale was basic. I wouldn't need the directions to the warehouse until I actually reached the town.

The driving was smooth sailing, given how late it was. Not many people needed to drive these roads this late. A dense vibration against my back pocket caused me to sigh, lifting off the seat a bit to dig my cell phone out. The caller ID lit up with a call from Sweet Pea. But I ignored the call, tossing the phone onto the bench seat beside me. It eventually quit buzzing and drenched the cab in silence once again. I said I was going to be late getting home tonight.

It wasn't like I just ditched everyone without word. But Sweet Pea wasn't just anyone. He was a protective, persistent South Side Serpent with anger issues. I tried pressing the buttons on the radio, changing stations through the intense static. I know, I know—this is ridiculous. _Why would she do this?!_ Well, dear viewers, I am anything but innocent in the fight for familial safety. At the core of it all, I am nothing but my protective instincts.

I kept up the act with Ben for just over two years in order to protect Cash. FP did what he thought was right and kept Sweet Pea from me for a couple weeks to protect me. Jughead kept Archie cheating on me a secret until he thought I could handle it. We look after each other—even if it's impractical. Whatever it takes. Lying, cheating, stealing. It didn't matter. As long as we were safe and as long as we were together. That's family.

The oldies station filling the cab, I'd just barely heard my phone start to buzz again on the seat. I didn't pick it up this time. Just kept driving. This time, the phone buzzed immediately after it stopped. With a sigh, I reached over and grabbed the phone, holding it to my ear. "Hey, what's up?" I answered, trying to keep my eyes on the dimly lit road.

"Diana, where are you?"

It was Jughead. He sounded confused but, above all else, worried. "I told you, I'm gonna be home late," I exhaled. "Pop's got me working an extra shift." There was silence on the other end, and I used this time to send my eyes to the clock on the radio controls. It was just after eleven.

The silence was broken with a heavy, disgruntled sigh. "I'm at Pop's right now— _you_ aren't here. Why are you lying to me?"

My nose scrunched, my eyes squeezing shut—all in a _yikes_ expression aimed at myself. I hadn't accounted for him actually going to Pop's. He was supposed to be at the trailer with Cash. Jughead always watched her at home when I was working, and I'd bring food back with me when I got off shift. "Jug, where's Cash?" I questioned, terribly avoiding the question.

"She's with Sweet Pea. He came to the trailer looking for you, said you weren't returning his calls," he answered, still disgruntled. "Diana, does this have anything to do with you 'stepping on snakes'? Or what the Serpents' lawyer told me, about _favors_?"

"What? No. I just need an hour or two—okay? I'll be home soon."

He sighed, "That's code for 'I'll show up when I feel like it'."

"Jug, this is something I have to do. I'll see you when I get home."

I ended the call, only taking my eyes off the road long enough to toss my phone onto the seat beside me. It bounced, but I didn't pay attention to where it went. My eyes were too focused on the city lights of Greendale. It was time to unfurl the piece of paper with the haphazardly scribbled address. The handwriting was barely legible. But I made it work—after three times circling the same block. I parked the truck at the back of the warehouse.

It was exactly where Peabody said it was, exactly where she said to park. In looking up from the wheel, I could see a shadowed form leaning against the building by the giant rolling door. The person in question pushed off the wall and started walking toward the truck in a carefree stride, and I could tell that he was male—what with his shaved head and distinctly holier-than-thou swagger. I pushed open my door, slid out, and closed it behind me.

The guy walking toward me was halfway to me when he called, in a heavily distinguished British accent, "You got the load?"

"If that's what this crate from _Raider's of The Lost Ark_ is," I answered, walking around to the back.

I could hear him chuckle even over the whining of the back door's hinges, lowering it open to make a straight path to unload the crate. "I was surprised when Penny said we were changing delivery boys," the guy said, coming to stand two feet beside me at the back of the truck. I could feel his eyes scrutinizing me even without looking. When I did look, I acted unbothered, even though I wanted nothing more than to swipe the smug smirk from his face. "Usually you snakes last longer."

My fingers gripped the side of the crate, and I began to pull, as I rolled my eyes. "Let's get this over with. I'm not here to make friends."

"You've got some bite to your hiss—I like it. Don't worry, I've got this. You have a load of your own to carry," he said, as he reached over me, grabbing the crate with both hands. With one long pull, he brought the crate to the edge of the bed. Then he hefted it off—bracing it against his left hip—and started toward the warehouse. His words made me wonder just how many people Penny decided to tell I was pregnant.

As I shut the bed, I heard him holler, "Safe travels back to Riverdale!"

I sighed and climbed back into the passenger seat of the truck. This night had been yet another thing that sucked the life out of me. It was hard to stay awake mentally on the drive home. All I'd wanted to do was zone out and think. But I couldn't. Not while I was driving. So I kept going and turned on the radio to pass the time. Out of curiosity, I grabbed my phone off the far end of the seat. It was lit up like a Christmas tree with messages.

Given that it was past one o'clock in the morning, I had been made a liar, and Jughead was ready to collect on his _I told you so_. But I honestly hadn't meant for it to take this long. I put the phone face down on the seat and turned my eyes to the road. The drive back got me to two am. Honestly, if I wasn't in the dog house before then—I sure was in the dog house now. I pulled into the alley behind the tattoo parlor and parked the truck.

Turning the key, grabbing my phone, and sliding out—shutting the door behind me. All lights in the parlor were off. So I left the keys in the truck and started walking in the direction of the trailer park. At two o'clock in the morning, the streets were pretty empty. But the Wyrm looked to still be bustling when I passed by. That was typical. Usually it didn't stop being a party until right around closing at three. Serpents were always most active at night.

Probably because they didn't have to hide. They didn't have to lie, or pretend, or make excuses. They could just let loose and be Serpents. Since moving to the trailer on the South side, I knew that feeling very well. Something about the lights, or the thought, caused me to stop walking on the corner across the intersection from the bar. Something about it made me think. Finally zoning like i'd been fighting the whole drive back to town.

What was I doing, delivering drugs? I was protecting my family. But it felt wrong. Doing this felt absolutely _wrong_. It was what I had to do. And that's what I've always done, isn't it? I kept it up for Cash with Ben for over two years. I could do the same for Jughead. I could do what needed to be done. I'd already proven strong enough. It was just convincing myself of that.

When I peered in through the trailer door, the living room and kitchen were empty. Nothing but a light in the kitchen left on to illuminate the emptiness. Carefully, I stepped in, and closed the door. It gave a soft click and I turned the lock. I shrugged off my hoodie and hung it by the door. Then I pattered through the kitchen and into the bedroom, through the open door. It was dark. But Sweet Pea was lit up by the lamp on his nightstand.

He lay in bed, side of his face pressed into the pillow, still clothed like he'd fallen asleep waiting. And he probably had. It made me feel all the more guilty. Quietly, I slipped off my converse and stepped out of my jeans. The last thing I needed to do was wake him. It would turn into a sleep-deprived discussion bound to escalate into an argument. So I tip-toed. I walked lightly. Careful with drawers. Even more careful with the comforter.

I turned out the lamp before gently sliding beneath the covers on my side. As I snuggled in, I slid my arms around his middle from behind, forehead against the base of his skull with my chest against his back. It was a loose embrace. One put together carefully. But a second after I settled in, he stirred, adjusting the positioning of his head on his pillow. "Diana?" his voice was small, groggy. Half-asleep.

"It's me," I whispered in reply.

His whole body turned then, flopping onto his other side to face me. But he didn't really. Because his arms encircled me and pulled me into his chest. His lips pressed to the top of my head. When I slid my arms around him again, it seemed his whole body relaxed. I pressed my forehead into the front of his shoulder and closed my eyes. A certain dull ache began to throb inside my chest. It was pure guilt. Plain and simple. I'd done wrong, and this time it actually felt like it.

This time it felt like murder—not just a drug drop. Maybe it was because I knew what lying did the first time? Maybe it was because I'd vowed never to do this again? Maybe this was the wrong thing to do, and maybe it wasn't, but it was the only path I could take. So I took it.

* * *

When I woke in the morning, it was to a loud crash, followed by an equally volumed swear. I'd instantly hopped up onto my elbow to look behind me at the clock on the nightstand. Then around at the empty mattress. "Pea?" I called, lifting my eyes to the bedroom doorway. There was virtually no sound following. I was about to push off the blanket and investigate when Sweet Pea walked into the bedroom, carrying a tray.

"Ignore anything you just heard."

"I actually didn't hear anything," I sat up, before rubbing my eyes. "What was that loud crash?"

There was a weight in my lap that caused my hands to move away from my face, standing upright in mid air as I looked down with knitted brows. "This," there was a smile to Sweet Pea's tone that was unmistakable. The tray he'd carried into the room was now on my lap, the wooden surface holding a plate of golden pancakes and lightly crispered bacon. Slices of strawberries filled a small bowl to the left with silverware and a glass of juice on the right.

My lips curved upward and I looked up at him. "You made this for me?"

"You sound surprised," he narrowed his eyes in mock offense, before taking a seat to face me on the edge of the bed at my knees. "I figured after working so late last night, you'd be pretty hungry. But I wanted to talk to you about that. The working—to be specific."

"Okay," my eyebrows raised, but my voice was neutral.

With this scenario, there wasn't a lot of room to move. Every word had to be chosen tediously. Purposefully. Thought out to its full plethora of ways it could go wrong. But it wasn't what I thought. I'd thought he was going to ask why I was 'working' so late. Instead, I was pulled into a completely different conversation I wasn't prepared for. "I don't think it's the best idea for you to keep working so much," he said, in a voice of genuine worry. "You're dealing with so much already, and it's not good for you— _or_ our baby."

"I get where you're coming from. But I can't—I have to take care of Cash. Jughead could find his own way, but she's nine years old. It's not like she can get a job."

"Then let me take care of it."

I paused, head tilting slightly. "What?"

"Why can't _you_ stop working and _I_ support the both of you?" he reiterated. I opened my mouth to protest. But it seemed he already knew what I was going to say, and spoke up first. "Diana, I dragged you into this north and south mess, _and_ I got you pregnant. The least I can do is take care of you—it's what I _should_ do."

"Alright, just...let me think about it?"

He nodded in agreement. "There's something else you should know. When you were working last night, Jughead came to the Wyrm. Says he wants to be a Serpent. Tall Boy's going to put him through initiation."

My heart nearly stopped beating in my chest. I didn't mean to, but I snapped a harsh, " _What_?" out of sheer confusion, surprise, and worry. All three things were forming an anxious bubble in my chest. I pushed off the tray and the blanket and slid off the bed, speeding out of the bedroom. Sweet Pea was right behind me, calling after me. "What are you doing?" he'd asked.

"I'm going to talk my brother out of it and then beat Tall Boy within an inch of his life," I shoved my arms into my jacket sleeves by the door and shrugged the fabric onto my shoulders, then I turned to face Sweet Pea. "What does it look like?"

I pulled open the door and marched down the concrete steps to the grass. Taking wider steps to cover more ground faster. My ears caught the sound of the trailer door closing, but I hadn't shut it. The majority of me didn't care. I was too focused on the colossal mistake Jughead was going to make. Once again, Tall Boy was trying to whisper in Jughead's ear. This time Jug was spurred on by something else and perpetuated by Tall Boy.

When I pushed through the door into FP's trailer, Jughead and Toni sat at the table in the corner of the kitchen. Practicing the laws. I knew because I'd heard the tail end of one before they stopped in a startled snap-up of their heads. "Jughead," I took steps toward him as he stood from his chair. " _Please_ tell me this isn't true. You _did not_ ask to join the Serpents."

"I did," he sighed, with a nod.

My shoulders dropped, head tilting with an expression mirror my whirlpool of emotions. "Why, Jug? _Why_ would you do this?"

"You might be a week older than me but, as man of the house, it's my job to look after the family," Jughead explained, adamantly. "I don't know what you're getting into. But it just makes me realize how out of touch I've been. I can't be who I need to be and stay on the outside."

"Jughead! You're my little brother. I'm supposed to _protect_ you! I can't do that if you join the Serpents."

The tears in my eyes were genuine. I didn't care who saw them. I didn't care that Sweet Pea followed me to FP's trailer, and stood in the kitchen listening to the words we exchanged. I didn't care about the pair of eyes Toni was giving the both of us. I was only focused on Jughead.

His eyes searched mine, "Diana...both you _and_ dad are Serpents. I'll be okay."

I shook my head quickly, "No, no- dad will never forgive me if I let this happen."

"I'm sorry. But it's not up to you. I'm doing this."

My watered down eyes shifted to Toni's, on the chair at the table. Her expression was sympathetic. But she gave a small, slow shake of her head. There was nothing she could do. I understood it then. I'd brought this on myself. Jughead knew I was getting into trouble last night and that it had to do with Serpents. So he thinks he can fix it if he joins the club, too. What I _didn't_ realize then, was just how much of my brother I was going to lose. And just how much of it was going to be my fault.


	9. 9: My Little Girl

My fingertips fidgeted with the base of the warm mug on the table top in front of me, keeping my eyes downcast to dry them out. I knew that if I looked up at him, the tears would never stop. Jughead sighed lightly. "I want to do this, Diana," he spoke softly, leaning forward to lean onto the corner of the table between us. "I _need_ to do this."

That's when my eyes moved up to meet his, and I sniffled. "You're not a leather guy. You're a coffee and a good book guy. You're a Pop's guy. A motorcycle gang isn't...it isn't _you_ , Jug. I don't want you to lose what makes you, _you_."

"I won't, I promise. I'll still write my book. And I'll read Stevenson to Cash every night before bed, like I always do."

His optimistic tone was emphasized by the small smile creeping its way onto his lips. Sitting upright, he reached over and pried my hand away from the mug, sliding his fingers in with mine instead. "I just want you to be safe," I explained—for the millionth time.

He nodded a little, in understanding. "I know, and I will be. You and Toni will have my back."

I didn't know what was more terrifying in that moment. The thought of Jughead getting hurt because I couldn't look out for him, or FP disowning me when he finds out Jughead joined the Serpents. He didn't want Jughead involved—and for a pretty good reason. Jughead sat forward in his chair, leaning into the table.

"You have to start worrying about yourself now. Pretty soon, you're gonna have a baby to look after," he reminded, gently. "You can't be looking after me and Cash at the same time. Let _me_ do it. Let _me_ step up and help you."

"Okay, okay...but when we tell dad-"

"I'll take the blame, don't worry."

I nodded a little. Though I knew FP wouldn't see it that way. He wouldn't blame Jughead no matter how much Jug tried to persuade him. FP would blame me. But Jughead did have a point. He'd wanted to help me before and I kept doing everything all myself. With the new developments—pregnancy and drug running for Penny Peabody—I needed help now more than ever. "Alright," I exhaled the word, my voice muggy from the previous waterworks. "You have my blessing."

Jughead nodded once, a small smile coming to his lips. "Thank you, Diana. Toni's been helping me with the laws, but you're gonna be there right? For the initiation?"

"Of course," I nodded quickly, before wiping at my eyes.

"Is there anything I should look out for that Toni might not have mentioned?" he asked, left eye narrowed in an expression.

"Uh...well, the male and female initiations are _very_ different. But I did see a few male initiations in my time—including Sweet Pea's. Just keep a straight face and, whatever you don't, don't smart off to Tall Boy. He likes to spit on people. But wait to wipe it off or give a girly shriek of disgust until _after_ it's over," I answered, only slightly humorous.

Jughead chuckled and stood, carrying his mug to the coffee pot. I used my sleeves to dry my cheeks and sniffled enough to dry my nose—at least, for the time being. The feeling of having foreign emotions seemed to only get worse with every passing day. At least now I had a bonafide reason for being overemotional. "I need to tell dad about the baby," I sighed, somewhat heavily, leaning back into my chair as I folded my arms over my chest.

"Well, the sooner the better. He'd wanna know," Jughead filled his mug and shuffled back to his chair, easing down into it before continuing. "I really don't think it'll be that bad."

My shoulders shrugged up, "I don't know...he just needs to know."

"Want me to come with you?" he was quick to offer.

"No, that's okay. Pea will probably come with me."

Though it probably was best I talk to FP alone, Sweet Pea would want to go, and I didn't really have a good reason why he couldn't. Jughead bobbed his head before raising his mug to his lips to take a sip. Like he saw the logic. "Just don't let him get too close to the glass," Jug smirked a little, putting his mug back down on the table. With a small scoff, I leaned forward far enough to smack his upper arm with a slap of the back of my hand.

* * *

We were going to a prison. Wearing Serpent logos wasn't the best idea, so Sweet Pea agreed to dress down. But getting in wasn't the hard part. It was _getting_ there. All ready to go, trying to leave before I changed my mind—and suddenly an argument breaks out over what mode of transportation we should use. It wasn't something I'd expected we'd argue about. But I wasn't really in the mood for anything right then, and his side of the argument seemed ridiculous because of it.

Looking back on it, he actually had a good point. "We're not taking the bike," he said, firmly, with a shake of his head. My eyebrows furrowed as my shoulders dropped, feet planted in the grass beside Sweet Pea's motorcycle. The thought behind the declaration was escaping me.

"Why not?" I'd scoffed.

He stopped halfway between me and the trailer, jutting a thumb over his shoulder in the direction of FP's trailer. "It's safer if we take the truck."

"Pea, I'm pregnant—not under threat of paralyzation," I tried to reason. "I'll be fine. We need to go."

He sighed, "We're taking the truck."

"No, we're not."

"Yes, we are."

" _No_ , we're not," I crossed my arms defiantly.

He didn't raise his voice—though he looked completely exasperated. Just calmly tightened his jaw and repeated back his words with the equal amount of emphasis I'd used on mine. " _Yes_ , we are," he reiterated. In the end, he won that argument. Because I was too frustrated to keep standing there arguing about it when all I wanted to do was get this conversation with FP over with and behind me. Yes, I wanted to see my dad. But I didn't want to spend any extra time on the pregnancy topic.

Unless he took it well, in which case we could talk about it all day. If not, I would be changing the subject and never talking to him about it again out of my own stubborn anxiety. We drove the truck to the prison. More specifically, I drove the truck. FP trusted me enough to tell me to use it. There was no way I was going to let Sweet Pea drive it, have something happen to it, and then get _that look_ from FP.

Though most of the Serpents had done some kind of time—myself included—I'd never actually been inside the prison. It was dark and dank in aesthetic, with workers that all sounded like they'd just woken up from a nap. The guard that checked us through security smelled like rotten food and I nearly lost my cookies right then and there. But I managed to hold it together as we continued on to the visiting room. The door opened with the chairs, glass panels, and telephones on the right.

Thankfully for me, they hadn't brought FP out on his side yet. So I was able to sit in my chair without disapproving eyes on my stomach's small bump. It wasn't a very well lit room. Rather darkened, actually. Relying more heavily on the natural lighting from the overhead windows. I tried to focus on that and not what the first thing out of my mouth was going to be. _Dad, we need to talk_.

He'll know immediately something's up when he sees Sweet Pea. The trick was going to be acting normal enough that he won't suspect what I was about to tell him. A warmth, a solid object gripping my hand, brought my eyes back to normal level and to the right—where Sweet Pea sat beside me. "Try to relax, okay?" he spoke softly, quietly. "I'm right here."

I nodded, thankful for the comfort, but still taking somewhat shallow breaths of anxious anticipation. A shadow mulling across our forms caused me to face ahead. There he was. FP stood on the other side of the glass, slowly taking his seat. His eyes were scanning every detail of us in a worried curiosity. I could tell by the way they crinkled and flattened at the corners. He was trying to figure out what major catastrophe took place to get us both here.

His hand finally reached up for his phone, and I did the same, reaching mine a second sooner than he did his. I took a deep breath as I settled the black phone against my ear. "Hey, kid. Been a while," he jutted his chin, eyes on me. "What brings you all the way in here?"

I cleared my throat, darting my tongue across my lips before speaking up. "We need to talk, dad. There's something important Sweet Pea and I need to tell you."

"The suspense is killing me—come on, out with it," he prompted me to continue with a hand motion.

My head turned right ever so slightly, looking to Sweet Pea. He gave my hand a reassuring squeeze when his eyes met mine. Urging me to continue with encouraging features. There was no mistaking he was just as terrified of the outcome as I was. But _I_ was the one that had to say it. Exhaling, I turned my eyes back to FP. "I...I'm pregnant," I finally said, a slight hesitation breaking up my words. I couldn't quite tell what the instant look in his eye meant.

Then he hung his head with a heavy sigh, elbows propped on the bit of counter in front of him, with the phone just out of ear's reach. And the thing I'd been dreading was happening before my very eyes. My hand tightened its grip on Sweet Pea's to anchor myself, trying not to feel like throwing up. The seconds it took him to lift his head were like years. They were wired with anxiety and a tense feeling of an unreadable—but unpleasant—emotion.

FP lifted his head, repositioning the phone to his ear. "What were you thinking, Diana? Didn't you have sex ed at your school?"

His tone was ever so slightly risen with a mixture of concern, stress, and a splash of rue. Keeping my voice as calm as possible, I responded the only way my emotions would let me. "Did you?" I questioned, cocking an eyebrow, instead of balling like a baby and begging for his forgiveness—like my insides wanted me to.

" _Hey_. This isn't about me," he pointed a finger at me, using a stern tone.

"Why isn't it? Come on, dad. Let's keep it honest here. Not only did you get your _wife_ pregnant, but you got _my mom_ pregnant—both within a week," I said, slightly irritated. "Yet you expect me to feel guilty about it happening to me _once_?"

He pinched the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes tightly with a sigh. "Diana Jane...you're sixteen."

"Babe," Sweet Pea pulled my eyes from FP, causing me to raise a brow at his interruption. "Give me the phone."

My eyebrows now knitted in confusion, "What?"

"Give me the phone."

He made a hand gesture, more urgent in his tone now. I'd glance at FP before giving Sweet Pea the phone. He leaned forward a little to not rip the chord from the wall. Not being able to hear FP's side of the conversation wasn't too much of a problem. Reading lips was something I got good at when I was little. Jughead and I always had headphones of some kind on, but we needed to know when something important was being said.

Usually it was said only because parents thought we couldn't hear them. Boy, were they wrong. "I know the circumstances aren't ideal, and I take complete responsibility for this, but I fully plan on supporting your daughter in _any_ way necessary," Sweet Pea spoke seriously, professionally. Like he was some businessman. It surprised me how calm, how mature he sounded. "I'm going to take care of her and the baby. You have my word."

My eyes flickered to FP, awaiting his reply. "You better, boy. If I find out one hair on her head was misplaced for too long, you and me—we're going to have a very serious conversation. Do I make myself clear?" FP leaned forward a little as he spoke, features pulled tight with seriousness, eyes a visible warning.

Sweet Pea nodded immediately, "Yes, sir."

"Good. Give her the phone."

FP sat back a little, his features relaxing as Sweet Pea and I traded the phone again. FP exhaled shortly as I brought the phone to my ear. There was still a certain tension in his shoulders—it was visible in how he kept them taut. But his expression was less apprehensive and more inquisitive. It was a positive sign, though I tried not to get my hopes up, preparing for more grilling as he opened his mouth to speak. "Now...when am I gonna get to meet my grandson?"

The massive change in attitude brought a wave of relief over me that nearly pushed me right out of the chair. I tried to relax a little, letting a small curve of my lips through the tight layer of fear coating my skin. "In June," I answered, calming my voice. "And don't get your hopes up—we don't know the gender yet."

"June? That soon? How far along _are_ you?"

"Thirteen weeks," his head tilted slightly, giving me barely narrowed eyes in an expression, but I kept talking before he could say anything. "I know I should've told you sooner. But a lot's been going on and I've been trying to juggle it all...and I didn't know how you'd react."

He blew a short puff of air. "Diana. I might not be happy with the circumstances, but you're still my daughter. You're my little girl. What'd you think I was gonna do? No, don't answer that," he sighed at his own words, changing subjects to a tick more upbeat. "Talk to me—what've I missed? What's got you so busy?"

"Well...I've been working at Pop's to keep Jughead, Cash, and I above water. But we're doing okay. School, taking care of cash, work—it's all just been so hectic. And then the being growing in my uterus decided I didn't need to eat or sleep," I exhaled at the thought of the stress I was explaining.

FP hummed a little, taking in the information, thinking it over. Then he said, "Is Jughead pulling his weight?"

"Yeah," I nodded. "Yeah, dad, he is."

"Good. That's good. And the Serpents?"

I'd opened my mouth to speak just when the guard called time on our visit. It was a bit disappointing. We were just getting to actually talk. But I tried not to seem too upset about it, keeping the spirit upbeat as I looked from the guard to FP's face. "We'll have to continue this later. But you keep me updated on the little one, alright?" he said, eyebrows lifted in an expression. "I wanna know everything."

I smiled a little more, nodding, "I will. Love you, dad."

"I love you, too, kid."

I hung the phone on the holder as Sweet Pea stood from his chair beside me. FP tipped his head to Sweet Pea as he stood as well, and Sweet Pea returned the gesture calmly, but I could tell he was trying to keep himself composed. To be honest, so was I. Sweet Pea and I kept our hands together as much as we could on the way out. Our fingers interlocked as we walked out of the building. There was a certain relief to it all.

A weightlessness to my shoulders that filled my chest with warmth, keeping a closed-mouthed smile on my face for the majority of the walk out. Three yards into the parking lot and my whole body jolted in surprise when Sweet Pea wrapped his arms around my middle, hefting me up against his chest at his height, a slight spin to his step. A loose, wild string of chuckles escaped me as my arms wrapped tightly around his neck.

When we came to a standstill, Sweet Pea smiled at me with soft eyes, brown irises bright with the same things I was feeling. "I love you, Diana Cassidy," he said, like it was the first time he'd ever spoken those words out loud. And, for a second, it truly felt like it was. Like it was that first time euphoria all over again.

My fingers combed back through his hair, "I love you, too, Sweet Pea."

Then my palms molded to his cheeks as I tipped my head, bringing my lips to his. It was the kind of feeling you wish you could keep in a bottle on your window sill. That bubbly, energetic, pure happiness mixed with the echos of a passionate, loving kiss. It felt like a win. And this time it was.

* * *

We pushed through the doors of the Wyrm, Sweet Pea's arm draped over my shoulders. The bar's main area was packed a little more than usual. Like every member of the Serpents happened to show up at one time. Because they did. It was an announcement party after all. Though I didn't tell the North siders why they were coming, just to get their prissy selves to the bar for something important. I'd worn my black denim shorts—the only ones still stretchable in the waist band.

Along with a Serpent shirt and an open plaid button down, and my snake necklace dangling between my collar bones. It wasn't like I was trying to hide anything. Not anymore. And it felt freeing. It felt liberating. Fangs greeted us moments after we walked in, smile plastered to his face. "Hey, the couple of the hour," he beamed, obviously excited for the night's event. "How'd it go with FP?"

"Surprisingly good," I answered, with a nod.

"Awesome," he smiled.

"Hey, those North siders you invited are here," Sweet Pea spoke up, giving my shoulders a gentle squeeze to get my attention. He jutted his chin, directing my eyes to the group of insanely out of place teenagers on the other side of the bar. It was Kevin, Veronica, Betty, Jughead, and Archie. Not only was I ripping off the Serpent band aid, I was ripping off the friends band aid, too. I pulled away from Sweet Pea then, only a step or two to look up.

His eyes moved to my face as I did. "I'm gonna go talk to them," I said. "I'll be back in a minute." He nodded once, before leaning down, pressing his lips to mine in a somewhat quick kiss. Quick because I had to pull away after a moment so that I could leave, smiling at him before walking away fully. I'd made a B line for the teenagers. As I was halfway to them, Veronica caught my glance. I could see her lips move to make words but I couldn't hear them.

Whatever they were, they got the others to turn and look at me as well. I arrived at the group with a carefree smile and an attitude that said I wasn't completely freaking out. "Hey, guys," I greeted, all too chipper. "Thanks for coming down."

"Tell me that's not what I think it is," Veronica said, a smile threatening to grow wider by the second plastered over her face, pointing in the general direction of my stomach.

My fingers gripped the hem of my Serpent shirt and tugged it up, "This?"

Veronica's mouth fell open in a smiling gasp. "It _is_!" she practically shrieked, before lurching at me, wrapping her arms around me in a hug. "Congratulations! I'm so happy for you."

"Thanks, Veronica," I hugged her back.

As soon as she stepped away, I was met with the surprised looks from the others. Kevin was non stop jabbering away. Mostly about how I was lucky that it was Sweet Pea's, given that he has muscles for days—according to Kevin. I just laughed away most of it. Betty, Kevin, and Veronica were all happy for me. I couldn't quite tell where Archie stood. He had a small smile, but his eyes said it was too much to process and his brain computer was overheating.

But I shrugged it off by busying myself with all of Veronica's baby questions—most of which I had no clue as to how to answer. Some were about what I had for the baby and what I still needed. I could answer those fine. Ones I couldn't answer were like the one Veronica just had to ask. "Any ballpark name suggestions yet?" her eyebrow curved up in intrigue, her question drawing everyone's attention in the group.

I was saved by the bell when Sweet Pea called me over to make the announcement.


	10. 10: Beautiful Crime

"What is the fourth law?" Tall Boy's voice boomed amongst the chattering echos and noise of the Whyte Wyrm, his face inches from Jughead's. I'd sat beside Toni not too far away. Since sitting down, I hadn't been able to let go of her hand. Holding my breath from one law to the next. So far so good, but the worry had my heart racing with adrenaline.

Jughead shouted back, "No Serpent is left for dead!"

"What is the fifth law?"

"A Serpent never betrays its own!"

"What is the sixth?"

"In unity, there is strength!"

With the final law spoken, the rest of the bar erupted with an echo of it. Tall Boy held out his hands to silence the crowd. "You know the laws," he turned back to Jughead. "But now it's time for the next trial." Sweet Pea and Fangs moved from there spot at the pool table to reveal the large terrarium, the one housing the Serpents' rattle snake. She was a nice old girl once you got to know her. But her bite still stung. She lay curled just behind the knife stuck in the dirt.

The knife, I knew, Jughead would have to retrieve. What Jughead didn't know, was that she was practically harmless when you got down to it. Her venom glands had been removed long ago. "Retrieve the knife," Tall Boy told Jughead.

Jughead looked from the tank back to Tall Boy, eyes round, " _What_?"

He looked to me with a slightly panicked expression. I rose my eyebrows with a nod, urging him to hurry on with it. And he took slow steps toward the tank. It's intimidating. Every new recruit knows that. But Jughead found it within himself to not act like it was. The snake bit him, but he got the knife out, thus completing the trial. As soon as possible, I'd sat him down at a table with a first aid kit. "Nobody ever mentioned a _snake_ , Diana," he said, voice hardened in anxious annoyance.

I sighed, wrapping a bandage around his hand. "Jug, calm down. Its venom glands were removed. You're not gonna lose your hand."

"But _why_ is this even a thing?!" he swung out a hand in the direction of the snake tank.

"You wanted to be a Serpent," I shrugged. "This is what it takes. Now you just have to make it through the Gauntlet."

"That sounds promising," he grumbled, under his breath.

"Well, Doc, is he gonna live?"

Toni appeared from my left, putting a beer on the table between Jug and I before walking around me to take a seat, her own drink in hand. She sipped it from a thin straw as I replied. "Looks like it," I said, sitting back after finishing the bandage with an exhale.

"Bummer," Toni smirked.

Jughead was anything but impressed with the humor. My phone suddenly buzzed in my back pocket, and I grumbled as I adjusted on my seat to fish out the device. When I held up the phone to read the caller ID, my thumb immediately pressed the red button, before placing it face down on the table. Jughead raised an eyebrow at me. "I'm guessing a bill collector?" he asked, sarcastically, as the twinge of a grin caused the left corner of his lip to climb.

Leaning my right forearm on the table, I rolled my eyes. "Wrong number."

" _Ugh_ , what I would give for a wrong number," Toni sighed, slowly shaking her head as I glanced at her across the table.

A bit of a smile came to my lips, but I knew how she felt. Bill calls were frequent and a complete nuisance if you lived on the South side. I startled hard when strong arms slid around me from behind, a body pressing to mine. But the warm voice that followed instantly calmed my nerves. "Hey, baby," his lips were close to my ear, his hot breath fanning down my neck. "How're you feeling?"

I dropped my head back onto his shoulder, closing my eyes as my body relaxed into his. "Better, now that you're here."

"Hey! What are we, chopped liver?" Toni questioned, offended.

"Don't bother, Toni. King _Sweet Pea_ has arrived," Jughead quipped, voice full of sarcasm.

"Gosh, when did _I_ become the favorite at the races?" my eyes peeled opened, shifting between the both of them at the table. "I didn't realize I had this big of a fan base. Don't worry, I still have time for autographs before I leave for the photoshoot."

Jughead huffed a chuckle, turning to face the table. He gently rung his hand as his forearms rested on the table top and I felt a little guilty. I would've warned him, but the reaction wouldn't have been genuine. It wouldn't have been enough to prove his worth. If he really wanted in, I was going to show him exactly what it took. Maybe he'd chicken out? Or maybe he'd prove everyone wrong with the Gauntlet, just like tonight?

Either way, I wasn't really looking forward to the next stage in his initiation. Sipping the last of her drink, Toni made a disgusted sound. "You could at least try to keep it _somewhat_ PG," she commented, setting down her empty glass with a clink. "I mean, I'm happy for you—really, I am. But your constant ogling is getting a little nauseating."

"Wow, way to be a buzz kill," Jughead said, quirking his eyebrows.

"Yeah, Topaz, you're ruining the mood," Fangs suddenly slid into the chair in between Jughead and Toni, the seat opposite mine, and he took a random beer bottle off the table top to take a pull. "It's young loooove."

Toni threw out her hands, looking between Fangs and Jughead with a confused and somewhat humored expression. "Okay, hold up! When did we stop agreeing on PDA and _why_ wasn't I notified?" she questioned, causing Fangs to snicker into his bottle. Dropping her hands on the table, she eyed them seriously. "Now I just look foolish. You knuckleheads need to work on your communication skills."

Jughead opened his mouth to speak, but I didn't hear it. It was drowned out in my ears by the loud sound of my phone vibrating against the wood of the table. This time, I knew, I wouldn't be able to ignore it. I sat up with a mild groan and swiped my phone off the table. "I have to get this," I announced, peeling myself from Sweet Pea to slide off my chair.

"Don't be too long, okay?" Sweet Pea, holding me there a second longer with a hand on my wrist.

I nodded with a small, soft smile, "Trust me—this won't take long."

As I turned away from the table and began to walk toward the exit, I heard voices from the table's occupants, voices of sarcasm and alcohol. Carrying comments making fun directly to my ears. "Hurry back, dear!" Jughead called, patronizingly. I could almost picture the look on his face when I heard his tone, and I chuckled a little at the thought.

"Yeah, _baby_ , I'm gonna miss you!" Fangs added, just as patronizing.

"Alright, both of you _shut up_ ," Sweet Pea said, obviously irritated.

If they said anything after that, I couldn't hear it. The sounds of the bar started to drown everything out. And then I was outside, walking down the steps to the parking lot as I answered the call. A call I'd dreaded since arriving back in Riverdale from the drug run. "What do you want, Penny?" I sighed, sliding my free hand into my Serpent jacket pocket.

"I'm interrupting again aren't I? I'm sorry- here, tell me the times of day you won't be busy to do what you asked for."

I rolled my eyes, "Get on with it before I hang up, _hag_."

"Meet me at Pop's in ten minutes."

"What? No. I can't just drop everything and leave."

In the silence following my words, it didn't take much to realize she'd hung up. Probably after her final demand. Swearing in a loud groan, my thumb slammed into red button on the key pad, ending my side of the call. Then I sent a quick text to Jughead. Just something simple letting him know I needed to run an errand and would be back in a half hour. I didn't wait for his reply to start walking up Third, toward Pop's.

The cold air sent my hands into my pockets after a minute of hanging out in the cold. It just reminded me how close to the end of the year we were. The neon signs of the Chock 'Lit Shoppe would've been a better sight had it been under different circumstance. But, instead, I pushed through the door with dread. It didn't take much to find Penny Peabody. She sat in a booth near the end of the aisle, by the windows, with her back to the door.

Seeing the Serpent jacket on her shoulders left a bitter taste in my mouth. A human being like her didn't belong in that jacket. It made me wonder just when she turned into the person she was. Did she wake up and decide to ruin people's lives, or did she always have that philosophy? Sighing, I walked down to the aisle to her booth and dropped into the seat opposite her. "Hey, DJ. How's _your_ night going?" she asked, carefree.

She stirred her coffee absentmindedly, looking at me with her usual patronizing smile-smirk. I wanted to slap her. But, instead, I used my words to explain my disgust. "Look, White Trash Barbie. I'm not here because I wanna be, I'm here because you called. So tell me what this is about before I reach across the table and do something you regret," I replied, sharp but calm.

Her smile remained, but her eyes narrowed in thought, nodding slowly a little as she eyed me a quiet minute. "Well, that was ballsy," she turned her eyes to her coffee, coming to in a snap. "I'm going to choose to ignore that—because I actually like you."

My eyes nearly rolled all the way back in my head. Just then, Pop Tate walked up from the aisle. He smiled down at me. "Diana, what a sight for sore eyes. Is there anything I can get you tonight?" he asked, is his usual carefree, genuinely upbeat tone.

I returned the smile, politely shaking my head. "No thanks, Pop. I'm alright."

"Just let me know if you change your mind."

I nodded and he turned to head back up the aisle and finish his rounds. As I turned back to Penny, moving my eyes to her face, I saw she was watching me. Her lips curved up, head slightly tilted, with eyes full of something unreadable. Whatever it was, it probably wasn't good. The woman reminded me of a velociraptor. The way she spoke, the way she acted, the way her thought process was so analytical. Adjusting in my seat, I narrowed my eyes. " _What_ do you want?"

"To chat. I hear your brother's joining the Serpents. I'm sure that's _very_ emotional for you," she lifted her mug, taking a drink, keeping her eyes on me.

My arms folded over my chest, "I'm not telling you _anything_."

"Alright. Why don't _I_ start by telling _you_ a little something?" she placed the mug back on the table, before leaning forward on her forearms, like what she was about to say was a secret. I remained still in my position, waiting for her to continue with a nearly blank expression. "Your boyfriend came to visit me last week. He's actually been working on the expansion to Crestview-"

"You're lying," I spat, my blood about to its boiling point.

She crinkled her nose in a mock apologetic expression. "Oh, I wish I was."

"Why would Sweet Pea need a 'favor' from _you_?" I questioned, disbelieving.

It was ridiculous—the notion that he would do something like this. Why would he come to her of his free will? He knew just as well as I did never to do that. "I don't know the specifics. But _apparently_ he needs money—a lot of it," my arms tightened across my chest as she kept talking, trying to keep my heart in my body. "Must be pretty important, don't you think? I have proof, if you don't believe me."

She dug into her jacket pocket, leaning to the side to do so. "I don't want it," I shook my head. It was hard not to let it show—the fact that I was starting to believe her. Just yesterday he was telling me to quit my job so he could support me instead. It made me rethink every time he said he was out doing 'Serpent business'. When I'd text him and he'd say he was with the boys. I was questioning everything he ever told me, and that was the point.

It was the point of telling me this. To get my mind off center. To make me start to go crazy. The smirk to her lips said she was seeing right through me as she righted herself, returning her hand to the table top. _She knew she was winning_. And it was oh so easy to do. "All snakes have a soft underbelly," she said, her voice semi-quiet. "It's sweet, really, that you two are each other's."

My eyes were focused on the table. I knew if I looked at her, she'd be able to tell just how much she'd gotten under my skin. She'd be able to see the boils my veins were searing into my skin from the anger coursing through them. Curling my fingers didn't help. Even when my fingernails dug into my palms deep enough to draw blood. Inhaling a shaky breath, I finally moved my eyes up again. "Rot in _hell_ , Penny Peabody," I sneered, palms pressing into the table.

I pushed myself up to stand and stepped past the booth. A grip on my right wrist pulled me back enough to stop me with a short tug, and I looked down to find Penny's smirk had turned into a sour mid-frown. "We're not done until I say we're done, DJ," she said, firmly.

That was when I ripped my arm from her grasp, shaking my head, "It's _Diana_."

Her eyes narrowed, but I ignored them, continuing to the door. As I pushed out into the cold night air, I tried to keep calm with deep breaths. But they felt more like gasping gulps of oxygen. Desperate intakes to ease the fire in my lungs. The gravel crunched beneath my feet before I hit the pavement of the sidewalk. It was the only sound I could hear. Jughead was joining the Serpents because of me, wanting to help.

FP went to jail because he wanted to help a guy he knew was my friend. And now Sweet Pea was getting in bed with Penny Peabody to get money to support me. What was I doing to these people? _I was ruining them_. I was ruining their lives. And all just by existing. By existing and making stupid decisions. Doing what I thought was right just for it to blow up in my face. My fists were curled inside the pockets of my jacket.

But I didn't feel cold anymore, nor did I have the energy to keep them tight. My fingers were folded loosely, limply, and my feet drug against the concrete. At the stop light, the light was red, so I had to stop. As I slowed, my hands slid up my face to cover my eyes. To keep the water in. It felt like my eyes were on fire. They heated the more I tried to blink the water away. I bit my lip as a stray droplet rolled down my cheek. This was a nightmare.

My life was the nightmare that didn't end. One bad thing after another until it was one long string of _disaster_. When the light blinked to white, I went right, bypassing the Wyrm. I couldn't bring myself to go there. Not knowing what I knew. Instead, my feet carried me to a place I hadn't been in almost two years. The cemetery. It was small on the South side, but it was where my parents wanted to be buried. Well, my mother and my father _figure_.

Bulldog was nothing more than a glorified placeholder. But he was buried right next to my mom. When they died, the Serpents pooled together the funds to get them in the ground with a small head stone. I didn't know where the money came from. Looking back on it, it probably came from Penny and her drugs. I found the graves, side by side, but my eyes lingered on my mother's engraved name. Sniffling, I lowered myself to my knees on the grass.

It was pathetic, but it was my last hope. For someone to finally slap me and tell me what the right thing to do was. A stab in the dark to try and fix the mess I'd made out of everyone I loved. "Hi, mom. I'm sorry it's been so long," I sniffled again, bringing a wrist up to wipe my right eye. "I think I've done it this time. Everything's falling apart, mom, and I don't know what to do. You're probably not even hearing me...but, if you are, please...I _need_ you."

The constriction in my chest pulled a few more stray tears from my eyes. First they were just single tears. Then they were like streams. With a palm against the grass, the other over my mouth, I sobbed. Out of seemingly nowhere, almost as if to answer me, a male voice called out. "Looks like I was right to go for a walk tonight."

Tears streamed my face, but I raised my head and looked left. The older man walking toward me looked at me with a certain empathy I'd never be able to recreate. He was slightly hunched, short, wearing a thick sweater and a coat. He took slow steps in my direction with his hands in his pants pockets, a yard or two from me now. "What's troubling you?" he asked, in a calm voice.

"Everything," I all but snorted, sitting back on my ankles as I looked down at my lap. "Dad's in jail, brother's not making good decisions either, I'm all my little sister has to take care of her, and I just found out my boyfriend made a deal with the devil to support me and our baby."

He exhaled in a hum, coming to stand beside me. "That does sound like a lot for a young woman to handle. What is your name, child?"

"Diana Cassidy," I answered, before pushing myself up to stand.

Sniffling hard, I held out a hand, and his withered features pulled into realization as his hand clasped my outstretched one. "You're Wes' daughter. I've heard many things about you from my granddaughter," he said, as our hands retracted. "She speaks very highly of you."

My eyebrows drew together, "Your granddaughter?"

"Yes, Toni Topaz. I believe you go to school together."

I hadn't expected the answer he gave, but it did make sense. He'd brought me over to a nearby bench with him and we sat. My main objective was wiping my cheeks dry. As the old man settled into his spot on the bench, he sighed. "Some nights, when I can't sleep...I like to walk these areas—the ones people have forgotten," he told me, eyes aimed out at the rows of headstones in front of us. "But the dead can only offer us so much guidance. Then we must look to the living...or find our own way."

There was something about the way he spoke, how he said the words. It was like listening to thousand years of lived days, good times and bad times, and the wisdom of a hundred men at the same time. I'd slowly nodded my head as I took it in. "I don't know what to do, Mr. Topaz," I admitted, with a sigh.

He turned to me slowly, "What do _you_ think you should do, Diana?"

"I think I should confront my boyfriend and call off the deal."

"Do the opposite."

"What? I should let him go through with it—making a _huge_ mistake—for me?"

"You cannot change what's already been done, or a debt that's already owed to a Snakecharmer. But you can change how you handle the situation. Reacting in anger and judgment will only worsen your current standings," he answered. "It isn't your choice what others do—even _for_ you. Ask yourself what _you_ can do to better the situation within your own capabilities and let the rest go."

The concept wasn't hard to grasp. But my stubborn nature wasn't all too happy with the idea of letting anything go. My instincts were to jump in and fix it, change it, and put it where it was supposed to be. I resigned myself to thinking on it, sleeping on it. Mulling it over might give me more of an understanding of what exactly I was 'capable' of doing without changing someone else's decisions.


	11. 11: Born Ready

Alice sighed, pouring coffee into a mug on the other side of the island. I stood with my arms crossed, watching her movements with an absentmindedly quirked eyebrow, waiting for her to finally speak. Everything I'd told her seemed to slide right off her back. And I understood why, what with Betty's latest article in the Blue & Gold. I'd known Alice Cooper was a Serpent. But we weren't in the same pools. I'd joined years after she'd left.

The article was a surprise, considering it seemed Betty had no gumption whatsoever half the time. I had to admit I was impressed, though. But what exactly it accomplished—other than making Alice a social pariah—was still alluding me. Alice turned around to face me suddenly, pulling me from my thoughts as she stepped toward the island between us. "I don't know what you expect _me_ to do," she finally said, with a wrinkled-nose expression.

Tossing my eyes, I inhaled. "I want to take her down—expose her. _Something_. Tell me what proof I need, and I'll get it."

"All you need is audio of her confessing to a crime, giving details on a drug drop, or photographic proof of her doing something illegal herself," Alice explained, like it was obvious. And it probably should've been. Then her expression contorted to one of confusion, hands resting on the island. "What on Earth made you want to do _this_?"

"W-W-J-D," I shrugged.

She paused, head tilting. "Since when have _you_ been religious?"

"What would _Jughead_ do," I corrected, plainly. "If I get you something usable, will you publish it?"

"Why not just take it to the Sheriff, let _him_ deal with this mess?"

"You know why. She's corrupting good people, ruining families. Taking advantage of desperate people looking for help. She deserves to rot in hell—but a jail cell will have to do," I said, letting my arms fall to my sides. "What she's done—what she's _doing_ —needs to be exposed. Being on the inside, I can find a way to get it out there without hurting any of the other Serpents."

Alice made a pfft, her mug close to her lips. "Good luck with that."

"I don't believe in luck. I _believe_ in getting the job done."

There was a certain unreadable change to Alice's expression. A slant of her lips, a sparkle to her eye—it was almost like she was _proud_. Of all the things that woman had held in her features when looking at me over the years, pride was the very last thing I ever expected. But something about it made me feel confident. It made me feel like I could actually do this. Little did I know just how short I would fall this time.

* * *

I pushed through the door to the trailer and was immediately met by a bark from Killer, then his sloppy tongue all over my bare legs. "Hey, boy," I reached down to scratch behind his ears. His tail thumped so hard against the wall I was afraid he might hurt himself. "Easy there."

"Well, can you blame him? He missed you."

My eyes shifted to the couch upon hearing Jughead's monotone voice. Though monotone, there was a hint of annoyance and disappointment. He was camped out on the couch I used to sleep on, blanket over his lap and laptop on top, typing away at the keyboard. His eyes didn't even leave the screen as I sighed and stepped further into the living room. It was obvious he wasn't happy with me. A blind man could see that.

I dropped onto the coffee table and, finally, he looked up— _barely_. "Where'd you disappear to last night?"

"I had something I needed to do," I answered, loosely folding my arms over my chest.

"Oh, like driving hours out of town in the middle of the night?" his eyebrows creased, then the left one rose. "I don't know who you think you're fooling, Diana. We were all _really_ worried about you last night. You took off with some lame excuse in a _text message_ , then never came back."

I sighed, "You're angry."

"Uh, _yeah_ , I'm angry. Did you not here a word I just said?"

"No, _idiot_. You're ticked off it wasn't you working for Penny, right? You think it should be you?" I said it rhetorically, bobbing my head with an expression that said I was fed up with his rhetoric. His face remained unchanged, but I could tell he was listening now—really listening. So I continued. "I'm not just some drug mule—not anymore. I'm working with Alice Cooper to bring Penny's drug trade down. For good. We're going to expose her."

"Wait, hold on. You're working with _Betty's mom_?" he looked incredibly perplexed by this.

With the way Alice and I have always hated each other, his reaction wasn't all that surprising. "Penny is corrupting _everyone_ , Jug. She's got Tall Boy and Sweet Pea by the balls—even _FP_ owes her a debt! The corrupt part? It's no pre-agreed upon exchange. You just work, and work, and work, until she feels you've paid her enough. It needs to end, Juggie, and _I'm_ going to be the one to end it."

Jughead put aside his laptop and sat forward on the couch, resting his forearms on his knees, "I want to help."

"You want to help? Cover for me with Cash and the others and stay out of the way. As long as I'm on Penny's good side, she won't touch you."

"Diana-" Jughead sighed.

"No, don't _Diana_ me," I shook my head. "I'm going to fix this—for _everyone_ , not just us. I can do this, Jug. You just focus on making it through the Gauntlet, alright?"

He still looked ready to argue, but he nodded anyway, agreeing against his better judgment. The Gauntlet was no joke. I'd seen it a few times. It was rough, brutal, and bloody. There was no way Jughead would be able to deny his allegiance to the Serpents with his North side friends. Not after tonight. "Speaking of, we should get going," Jughead exhaled, before standing.

I nodded and stood, following his lead to the trailer door. Watching Jughead go through a line of swinging fists was not something I would categorize as fun. But I was going to be there to support him regardless. It was too important not to be there. We stepped out onto the cement slab of a porch, and my eyebrows quirked when I saw a red head of hair standing just a few feet from the bottom of the steps. "Archie," Jughead greeted, in surprise.

"We gotta talk, Jug," Archie replied.

"Uh..." Jughead walked down the steps in front of me, looking to the corner of the trailer. The young Serpents were scheduled to arrive any moment. If Sweet Pea met Archie again and they exchanged words, things might get out of hand. It was different at the Wyrm. There, it was controlled. I could keep them apart. Here, not so much. "Now's not really a good time."

Archie's brow furrowed. "Why? What's going on?"

"Archie, just leave, okay?" I trotted down the steps to stand beside Jughead, and Archie's eyes swiftly met mine. "You can't be here."

"Well, what do we have here?"

Sweet Pea's voice caused my eyes to shift up and over Archie's shoulder, just as Sweet Pea was rounding the corner of the trailer. I exhaled and walked to him, meeting him halfway, and placed a hand on his arm. "He's leaving, alright?" I told him, though his scowl didn't fade.

He looked down at me for all of a second before moving his eyes to Archie and narrowing them, keeping a defensive posture as the other young Serpents filed into the small yard in front of the trailer. He was waiting for Archie to step out of line. Even the smallest thing could set him off. I knew that from too much experience. "Why are these thugs here? Wait...Jughead, are you joining the Serpents?" Archie suddenly asked, causing me to turn.

Archie looked accusingly at Jughead, and Jughead sighed heavily. Jughead all but glared at Archie, but it was Sweet Pea that responded, "If he survives. And go ahead and call us thugs one more time." Sweet Pea took a step forward and I sidestepped, pressing my hands into his chest as I blocked his path. His eyes flickered down to mine a second before he backed down, reclining in his stance, relaxing. Inhaling a deep breath, I turned enough to see Archie. "Why are you here, Archie?" I questioned, sounding a lot less annoyed than I felt.

Archie looked to Jughead, "I came here to tell you to stay away from Betty. She doesn't want to see you anymore."

"What? I just saw Betty yesterday…she was fine-"

"No, dude, she's been wanting to break up with you for weeks," Archie explained. "She's been agonizing over it since you crossed to the dark side—she couldn't bring herself to do it."

Jughead sounded angry now, "Wha- so she sent _you_?! Betty would never do that-!"

"If you don't believe me, then call her!" Archie quickly interrupted. Calming his voice, he continued, "Oh, and be sure to tell her you're a Serpent now. I'm sure she'll love that. She saw where you were headed, Jughead—we all did! And she knows you can't be with them and with her. Come on, man. You know it, too!"

"That's _enough_!" I rose my voice in anger, and walked over to stand beside Jughead. The look on his face would have been enough to bring me to tears if I hadn't been so angry at Archie first. It looked like a million things—disappointment, sadness, regret, and the biggest being pain. My shoulder was in between both teens, and I glared sternly at Archie. "Tell Barbie she's no longer welcome at the country club—oh, and while you're at it, _don't_ come back, Andrews."

Archie's shoulders sagged as he leaned back on his heels. His features seemed to wash out and drop in an almost unreadable realization. Like he felt the weight of exactly what he'd just done. Then he nodded once, mumbling a barely audible, "Yeah," before he walked around us to leave with his head hung down. I turned to look at Jughead. The look of despair he held before was replaced now with a look of anger.

He turned around to face the group of Serpents standing not far behind him. "What? Did you enjoy the show?!" he spat at them, angrily. I hadn't known what it was like to be broken up with by a third party but, if I were Jughead, I would want to replace my sadness with anger, too.

Sweet Pea smirked and shook his head, "Show hasn't even started yet."

* * *

All Gauntlet's usually took place just after sundown. I stood there with Toni, Fangs, Tall Boy, and Sweet Pea at the end of the line of Serpents waiting to do their part in initiating my brother. It was an entirely different feeling—seeing a complete stranger versus seeing a family member going through it. It made me wonder how FP must have felt, watching my initiation. He probably didn't actually watch. Looking back, I never actually saw him look at me until it was over and he gave me my jacket.

I'd never really noticed that before, or wondered why. Now I knew. Now I understood. Now, I was watching Jughead get ready at the start of the two rows of Serpents, readying himself to go through them, feeling the same concern and anxiety as FP did for me. I broke from my thoughts at the feeling of warmth against my hand. It was Toni. She gave me a small, supportive smile. And I tried to send one back her way, but it didn't come out right.

As Jughead walked slowly down the lines of Serpents, they threw their fists at him—some high, some low. With each hit, Jughead stumbled. But he kept moving. He was staggering near the end, the end where he would meet that final punch. The one punch that really mattered. I looked on with a stomach ready to sour as Sweet Pea slid on his brass knuckles.

Jughead made it to the end of the line and staggered to a stop, looking up at Sweet Pea expectantly. There was no mistaking the slight smirk of his lips before he swung. I almost looked away. But there was no time to miss the brass knuckles connecting with Jughead's jaw, the force of the hit knocking Jughead flat on the grass. My first instinct was to rush forward and help him. But Toni's grip on my hand kept me anchored.

It kept me from making a big mistake. Though, it didn't feel like a mistake. After a second, Jughead pushed himself up to his feet and stood before Sweet Pea once again. Sweet Pea held out his hand to Jughead. Weakly, Jughead slid his hand in Sweet Pea's. I dropped Toni's hand to step forward, holding up the Serpent jacket I held in my other hand—offering it for him to take with a relieved smile. Jughead turned toward me and took the jacket and I wrapped my arms around his shoulders in a hug.

I exhaled, "Welcome to the club, Jug."

A sound that seemed like it was supposed to be a chuckle escaped him, and I took a step back. His lip was broken open and bloody, bruises already forming on his face and the exposed skin of his arms and chest. It wasn't good. But the good thing was that he passed. _Jughead was a South Side Serpent_. It was a phrase I was sure I would never say. A phrase I prayed I would never say. This was something I would have to take in stride.

Though, I wasn't sure I would ever fully be able to accept it. I only just barely felt the vibration of my cell phone in my back pocket, just enough to catch it before it went to voicemail. It was Veronica. I answered it, "Veronica, what's up?" as I stepped away from the others, turning my back to them to gain some space.

"You need to come to the Pembrooke—Cheryl was almost assaulted. She needs you, D," Veronica said, her voice an airy anxiousness.

" _What_?" I gasped the word as I turned around to start walking toward the others, moving quickly. "Okay, I'll be there in a couple minutes."

I ended the phone call, sliding my phone away as I stepped up to the group of Tall Boy, Sweet Pea, Jughead, Fangs, and Toni. They all turned their heads as I arrived at the edge of the group, but Tall Boy didn't look like he cared much. I wouldn't lose any sleep over it, though. "I need to leave- like, _right_ now. It's an emergency up North," I announced, the words spilling from my mouth in a rush.

"I'll make sure Jughead gets cleaned up," Toni offered, turning toward me, placing a hand on my upper arm.

I nodded to her in thanks before walking fast around the group and hopping into a small jog, bounding as fast as I could manage to FP's truck. My hand pulled the door open and I immediately climbed into the driver's seat. It was safe to say that I probably broke the law more than I could count on both hands in order to get to the Pembrooke quickly. It felt like my heart was in my throat the entire drive. Then, pulling in, I barely shut up and locked the truck before hurrying inside.

My feet squeaked on the clean flooring, having been wet from outside, all the way into the elevator. I almost couldn't believe what Veronica had said. But, then again, I almost could. Cheryl was reckless and, at times, put herself in positions no smart person ever would. She didn't look out for dangers she knew could be there. She lived freely, wildly. Cheryl knew the danger, but proceeded anyway. It was worrisome.

But all I really cared about was making sure Cheryl was okay. It didn't matter to me who was at fault, or the politics of the situation—just Cheryl's safety. Archie was the one that opened the apartment door, and I nearly decked him right there. But I decided it probably would take more time than I had to spare in that moment. So, instead, I shoved two hands into his chest and sped past him once he was out of my way.

I marched right for Veronica's open bedroom door. "Veronica?" I called out, stepping up to the doorway. Veronica stood at the beside, with Josie sitting beside Cheryl, who was huddled in the middle of the bed against the pillows. Cheryl's face was drenched with tears, her hair stuck to her wet cheeks. She lifted her head as soon as I entered the room, and her already mopey lips seemed to dip down at the edges even further—as if that were possible.

"You came," she sobbed out the words, surprised but relieved.

"Of course I came, Cher."

I hurried to the more open side of the bed by Veronica, and Veronica stepped back to give me better access to the bed. As I climbed onto the comforter, Cheryl moved toward me a bit, and I wrapped my arms around her shoulders as she fell into my chest. "Are you hurt?" I asked her, speaking more to her messy hair than her face.

"No," she shook her head, sniffling. "They got there just before...before he could…"

She trailed off, unable to continue her line of thought for fear of the implications, for the idea of it actually happening. My stomach was threatening to truly come up into my throat now, along with my heart, but I clenched my jaw to channel my anger enough to look at Veronica to my left. " _Who_ did this?" I growled the words.

"Nick St. Clair," she answered, almost instantly, her nose wrinkling like the words left a bitter taste in her mouth as she crossed her arms. "I feel so sick about this. Nick's a _monster_. And there's no way he hasn't done this before—probably even right under my nose."

I hadn't noticed the blonde witch sitting in the corner on Veronica's chair until Archie came into the room, walking right in front of her to stand next to Veronica. Then Betty spoke, saying, "It's not your fault, Veronica."

"I want to press charges," Cheryl sat up a bit, and I brushed her hair from her face as she continued. "I want Nick to pay. To suffer. To burn in _hell_."

All it took were her words to give affirmation to the thought already traveling through my mind, and I didn't hesitate to voice it. "One phone call, and that's exactly what he'll do," I told Cheryl, serious in my quiet tone. She looked up at me from her covered knees, her eyes searching mine. It seemed to click in her mind. I could see the second it did on her features.

"Diana, no," Archie spoke up, almost instantly.

He knew exactly what I was planning. But I ignored him, keeping my eyes on Cheryl. I wouldn't make the call unless Cheryl gave me the okay. If Cheryl didn't want it, it wasn't going to happen. She was in thought for a moment, her eyes staying on a spot off the end of the bed, before she snapped to attention in a split second. Coming to life, she uttered the only words I needed. " _Do it_."


	12. 12: Devil's Backbone

I walked into the hallway outside Veronica's apartment, leaving Cheryl's side only to make my one phone call. My fingers dialed in the number as my feet took steps from the door.

Just as my thumb hung over the green button, foreign fingers encircled my wrist and tugged, spinning me to the right. The gesture turned me around to put me face to face with Archie. I yanked my arm back and shuffled backward, glaring.

"What is your problem?" I hissed.

"You can't do this, Diana—it isn't right," Archie shook his head.

I scoffed once, hard and emotionless. "And Nick taking advantage of Cheryl is? He isn't going to die—but he'll wish he was dead."

"What happened to you? Why are you doing this?"

"Are you still on that trip? Archie, I'm not anyone I haven't been the entire time! You were too busy sleeping with our music teacher to care who I was either way, so I don't understand why you care of all the sudden," I pointed out, thrusting my arms out at my sides in exasperation.

"You think that entire time we were together, that I didn't care about you? I loved you, Diana—I still do-" I took a step back, holding up a finger in warning as I shook my head. "Don't go there."

His shoulders dropped as he exhaled, looking elsewhere in the hallway. Sighing, I held up my phone and opened the key pad. Archie grabbing my wrist had caused me to exit out of having already typed the number. I started typing again.

"Are you sure you want to-"

"Cheryl wants this, so I'm making it happen," my head snapped up instantly, interrupting before he could waste his breath. I dialed in the number then and held the phone to my ear, turning and stepping away from Archie.  
Sweet Pea answered on the second ring.

"Hey, babe. Everything okay?" he asked.

I sighed. "One of my friends was almost raped tonight. Feel like doing me a solid and roughing the piece of trash up that tried to assault her?"

"Do you even have to ask?"

"His name's Nick St. Clair, he's staying at the Five Seasons," I answered, with a small smile at his tone. I gave a quick glance over my shoulder, but Archie had disappeared, probably back inside the apartment with Veronica and Cheryl—where I should've been.

"I want you to scare him more than anything, but make sure he bleeds. He needs to know he can't touch her—or any woman—ever again."

"That shouldn't be a problem—I'll grab the guys and pay this piece of scum a little visit."

"Thanks. I'm gonna stay here a little while with her, make sure she's alright. I might stay the night but I'm not sure. I love you."

"Alright. I love you, too."

I ended my side of the phone call and slid my phone away, then took a deep breath and walked back inside the apartment. Cheryl still sat on the bed when I reentered, but her legs were swung off the edge, looking down at her hands curled in her lap. Her head lifted as I walked in the room, and I gave a nod.

"It's being handled," I assured, in a calm voice, as I walked straight to her side of the bed. As I sat down beside her, Cheryl fell into my lap. My fingers instinctively and a bit absentmindedly started combing through her hair in a soothing motion, and she exhaled deeply against my knees.

"Thank you, Diana," she said, semi-quietly. "Will you stay with me a little longer?"

"Of course, Cher. I'll stay as long as you want," I nodded, though she couldn't see it.

"Do I even want to know what's happening to Nick right now?" Veronica asked, completely rhetorical in her glum state, from where she sat on the opposite side of Cheryl from me. I moved my eyes up to meet hers and gave a certain shake of my head, and Veronica nodded in response, looking down at her lap. There was a bit of an awkward veil covering the bedroom. But the only ones that were affected by it slowly began to go home.

Betty walked home, so did Josie. Archie didn't stay too long after Betty left. Then it was just me, Veronica, and Cheryl. I thought Cheryl had gone to sleep for a while. She was so still, so quiet. She lay with her head on my lap while I stroked her hair. But then she stirred after a long pause of stillness, and she readjusted her head's position on my legs.

"Can we talk about something? Something happy?" she asked, weakly. I instantly looked to Veronica. Veronica inhaled, exhaled, and threw out a random topic suggestion—my pregnancy.

It seemed to immediately brighten Cheryl's depressed mood. She asked if I was over the morning sickness, and I had to explain to her that it wasn't necessarily something you got over. Some women have it during the whole thing. Some only have it for the beginning months. Every pregnancy is different.

Mine was a little stereotypical in that I was only really sick in the early morning hours now. Before it had been I was sick throughout the entire day. It was nice not to have constant nausea anymore. I could do some of the things I couldn't before without vomiting.

"Have you found out the gender yet?" Cheryl asked, sniffling a little.

"Not yet. But here in the next week or so we will," I answered.

Cheryl titled her head to see Veronica, "I bet it's going to be a girl."

"Why do you say that?" Veronica asked her. "It could very well be a boy."

Cheryl returned to her straight forward position with a pfft, "I need _someone_ to take shopping."

My eyes shifted to the left, finding Veronica's, and we both shared a small grin. Cheryl was going to be okay. It might take a little while for her to get some sense of closure after what happened, but at least she would still be herself. That one sentence—her tone, her attitude—was enough to know that.

After a while of staying there in that position with her, Veronica and I got Cheryl tucked into Veronica's bed in some spare pajamas. Cheryl drifted off to sleep, and only then did I leave the room with Veronica. I hadn't held what Cheryl had said or done against her. She lost her brother—and my father aided in that loss, albeit unknowingly at the time. In this moment, none of it mattered. I treated Cheryl like she were my own sister—because, at one point, it had felt like she truly was.

Veronica gave me a spare set of pajama shorts to wear and offered to let me stay over. She elected to sleep on her chair while I slept in the bed. When I tried to argue that it was her bed and therefore she should be using it, she insisted that I be the one to sleep in it because I was the pregnant one. I knew it was a losing battle, arguing with her, the second she gave me her signature eyebrow quirk.

So I sighed and used the bathroom to change into the pajamas. When I stepped back into the bedroom, I heard voices from the living area. They sounded like they belonged to Mr. and Mrs. Lodge. So I tip toed past the door and climbed under the sheets on the opposite side of the bed from Cheryl.

* * *

Cheryl, Veronica, and I stood crowded behind Veronica's bedroom door early in the next morning. We listened to Veronica's parents and Penelope Blossom discuss what happened to Cheryl. Nothing seemed to be being discussed other than keeping the situation quiet.

All Penelope wanted was to act like it didn't happen. It made me angry, so much so I felt my skin start to boil. But I stayed put beside Cheryl and kept my arm around her for support. "I want this handled discreetly," Penelope said. Hiram replied, "Well, I think the St. Clair's feel the same way."

"Good. I will talk to that idiot Sheriff Keller and tell him we won't be pressing charges," Penelope said. "After all…nothing really happened to Cheryl."

My jaw clenched tight, eyes burning a hole in the flooring in front of me. I couldn't handle hearing any more of it. Sure, nothing happened to Cheryl. Other than the fact that she was drugged and coerced back to Nick's room where he tried to rape her. But, no, nothing happened in the slightest. A slap on the hand won't fix someone like that—no, some _thing_. Nick wasn't human. I refused to accept it.

Veronica must have sensed my apprehension, because she whispered quickly after hearing Penelope's words. "Diana, I know what you're thinking-"

"Good," I interrupted, lifting my eyes as my hand shot forward. My fingered encircled the knob and I turned it before pushing through, marching into the living area. Hiram and Hermione were sitting on the couch beside Penelope's chair. Penelope was already stood up, but both Lodges turned their heads upon my sudden entrance.

"Are you kidding me?" I spat at Penelope, coming to a stop at the end of the couch Hiram and Hermione sat on. Penelope sighed and adjusted her shirt, with a demeanor that said she was above it all. Little did she know I was about to prove her wrong.

"Diana, honey, why don't you go wait with Veronica?" Hermione suggested, speaking softly to calm me down.

"Nothing happened? So, what, you're just going to sweep it under the rug and let that monster go free to actually rape other girls? Things like this not getting reported is why we have so many sexual predators," I kept my eyes on Cheryl's poor excuse for a mother, my anger fueling my words. Penelope scoffed like she didn't believe it. So I dug deeper.

"Do you even realize what this did to Cheryl? Do you _care_? She's your own daughter— _she's_ the one you should be protecting! Not yourself and a _rapist_."

"Alright…that's enough," Hiram sighed as he stood, turning toward me and gesturing toward the bedroom.

"I _am_ protecting my daughter—not that _you_ would even understand," Penelope defended, holding up her chin.

My eyebrows raised on my forehead, "Oh, really? Letting her attacker go free is protecting her? He could just as easily come back and do it again, and this time even succeed!"

Hiram took steps forward with his hands up to herd me back, and it worked only for sheer matter of no other options. Cheryl exited the bedroom with her black coat covering her pajamas and came straight to my side, taking my hand.

"Diana, thank you for your support. But mother's right—nothing happened to me. I'm fine," she said, in a reassuring tone. My eyebrows knitted in confusion but I didn't get time to question her. She gave me a quick but tight hug, and then she and Penelope left the apartment. I stood there perplexed for a moment. But then I turned to Hiram and Hermione as Veronica emerged from the bedroom.

"You're just going to let this happen?" I questioned, quickly glancing between them. Hermione stood and came to Hiram's side, just a few feet in front of me. The pair looked disturbed by the incident but otherwise unwavering.

"There's not much else we can do, Diana," Hermione answered, calmly. "We can't press charges for Cheryl. Only she can do that. And if she's not willing to take a stand…we have to respect that."

I understood what she was saying. Though, it didn't stop the sting. Cheryl was robbed of her peace of mind and a tiny piece of her sanity, and the man that took it from her was going to be able to walk the same streets I do to take my little sister to school every morning. What kind of a world is that?

I sighed heavily and went back into the bedroom to get my jeans. If I didn't leave soon, I would be late for first period. Penelope Blossom had already stolen more of my life than she was worth.

* * *

When I walked into school, I took two steps before Fangs was at my side, asking where I went last night. Not in a creepy stalker way, in a concerned friend way. I exhaled and shook my head, "Doesn't matter anymore."

"You see, you say the words, but you're getting that crease in your forehead you get when you're really thinking about something and-"

He interrupted himself to chuckle as he saw I began to crack a small smile. Fangs and I walked to our first class—I didn't have time to stop at my locker first. I was too late already. We took our seats and I sighed as I settled in. That's when my phone started lighting up the inside of my bag.

Today we were watching a video so, as the lights were off, I could hide my phone under my desk to see who was messaging me like a crazed baboon. I turned it on, it was Jughead. I was curious. I knew he was supposed to be in a meeting with Mr. Phillips. So why was he taking the time to message me? I opened the messages and began to read them, skimming over them as I scrolled the long list. Considering each message only had a couple words each, it was easy to do.

 **J: Is everything okay? You said it was an emergency**

 **ME: It was, but I'll tell you later**

 **J: Ok. Have you talked to Sweet Pea yet?**

 **ME: No, why?**

Jughead didn't respond, meaning he probably got caught with his phone or only just now needed to put it away. So I dropped my phone back into my bag and listened to the last few minutes of the video before the lights were turned on at the end of class.

The crowd was moving out with the bell. Fangs joined me once again, this time on my way down the hall to our lockers. He started talking about the research he'd done into getting an infant sized Serpent jacket made. At first, I didn't think he was serious. But he was completely serious—and he wasn't going to change his course, either. I know because I tried talking him down. "It's a really sweet gesture, but are you sure that's-"

"Nope, uh-uh, we're not doin' that," he shook his head adamantly, looking straight ahead. "This is happening, D—it's my responsibility to make sure Little Pea has everything they need."

I snorted, "Says _who_?"

"Me. As Uncle Fangs, this is my civic duty. You can't take this from me."

"Okay, okay. But please don't spend a lot of money on it—going broke won't help 'Uncle Fangs' do _any_ of his duties."

He nodded in agreement, just as we reached the lockers. Rolling in his combination, he replied, "Deal."

Exhaling, I unlocked my locker and exchanged books. Despite sleeping in a bed at a reasonable hour, I felt exhausted—probably because I didn't actually sleep the night through. Most likely because I wasn't in my own bed. Either that, or I was contemplating how many stitches Nick St. Clair must have needed after last night.

When the thought entered my mind, I turned to Fangs at the locker over. "Hey, did you go out with Pea last night?" I asked him.

He nodded, sporadically glancing at me, "I went out, but SP stayed behind. Last minute thing."

"Wait, what?" my muscles absentmindedly tensed upon hearing his words. "Sweet Pea stayed home? Did he say why?"

"He just said he wasn't feeling well, but I checked in with him this morning. He's all good. You haven't talked to him?"

I shook my head, trying to shake off my uneasiness as well, "No—but I will now." I closed my locker door and started up the hallway, digging my phone out of my bag as I walked. Most times, we don't see the big moments in life coming. Me? It takes an event hitting me dead on, the train crushing me before I've even heard the whistle. This was one of those times. I heard my name called—it was Sweet Pea's voice. So I looked up from my phone.

It was just long enough to see the look of sheer panic on his face. It colored his features in a shade of pale I'd never seen before. It was the look, then the chatter, then people bumping into me as they sped through the hall. But the only people running were the ones in Serpent apparel. I twisted to see behind me and a certain dread filled my stomach as I saw Sheriff Keller marching my way with Mayor McCoy.

Deputies flanked them, grabbing teens and cuffing them, searching their lockers. They had police dogs—German shepherds—on leashes to sniff out contraband. For me, there was no point in running. They were too close when I noticed them. Deputies rushed past me down the hall as Sheriff Keller himself stopped in front of me.

"Diana…" he regarded me with a sigh. "I'm sorry it's come to this."

"To what?" I questioned, not hiding my disgust. That's when a hand plucked my phone from my grasp and another set gripped my wrists. Deputies cranked my arms behind me in the bat of an eyelash.

"Hey! Get your hands off her!" I heard Sweet Pea's voice bellowing through the noisy hall then. My head snapped to the right, just in time to see a pair of deputies slam Sweet Pea into the lockers, as the deputies with me cranked on my wrists a set of silver cuffs. Sweet Pea raised a fist, slamming it into the metal as the deputies grappled with him to put cuffs on him as well.

"Are you kidding me?" I spoke heavily under my breath, my eyebrows knitting as it set in—the heaviness, the details all came clear, truly becoming understandable.

I looked to Sheriff Keller and Mayor McCoy. "We're teenagers— _minors_! Where's your warrant?"

"I'm the mayor, I don't need a warrant," Mayor McCoy smirked smugly at me.

"Um, _yeah_ , you kinda do," I bobbed my head along with my patronizing tone, clearly not impressed. "This is _illegal_! You are _so_ not getting the South Side's vote in the next election, so good luck with that, Mayor Mc- _Corrupt_."

"Alright, that's enough. Get her in a squad car and take her," Sheriff Keller instructed the deputy gripping my arm.

The deputy gave my upper arm a tug as he started walking and, begrudgingly, I followed along. I looked around as we walked the remainder of the hall to the exit, my eyes scanning faces, keeping track of who they've taken and who they haven't. Then we were outside.

The red and blue lights from the police cars shone across the front of the school as I was guided down the front steps and across the pavement. Anger boiled through my veins. I had no other option than to get in the car and wait it out. As soon as I got to the station I would demand a lawyer, and the lawyer would inform the Sheriff he had no legal authority to keep me detained—along with all other minors ripped from South Side High.

For a few moments, I sat in the back of the car alone, watching the deputies drag Serpent after Serpent out of the building and put them in cars too. And it felt completely helpless. Sweet Pea and Fangs were dragged out after a minute. Fangs went quite quietly, going with the deputies to a squad car not far behind mine.

But Sweet Pea was like a stallion they were trying to tie down, restless and untameable, pulling and pushing at their holds on him. His eyes moved across the police cars in a wave until they reached mine, stopping his protests for a short moment.

I tried to seem reassuring, I tried to seem confident. I tried to look like everything was going to be okay. But the truth was that the sight terrified me. The thought that maybe this would happen in the future but, this time, be permanent. That he would get booked for something he actually did. I had to look away as a tear fell off my chin.

Suddenly the door to the left yanked open and in slid Toni onto the cushioned back seat. The deputy slammed the door behind her, muttering an obscenity, and he got into the driver's seat. "Hey, you okay?" Toni asked, looking to me intently. I nodded—it was all I could manage—and kept my eyes on my knees.


	13. 13: Only You

I uncrossed and recrossed my legs under the interrogation room table, tightening my arms over my chest. Sheriff Keller stared at me blankly—but I could tell he was analyzing me. Every move I made was being scrutinized. And there was not a snow ball's chance in hell that Mayor McCoy herself wasn't standing on the other side of that two-way mirror behind him. I stared back at him just as blankly from across the table.

We'd been staring at each other like that for ages. Neither moved too much, only to readjust just slightly. As I sighed heavily, Sheriff Keller broke his silence. "Just tell me what you know and you'll be back with your Serpent friends," he said, leaning back in his chair.

"I'm a minor being grilled without requested representation, so I'm being denied my rights—not to mention you didn't even have authorization for my arrest. Anything I told you would be inadmissible in a court of law, so...good luck with that," I replied, dryly, as I nodded slowly.

He exhaled, "This isn't a game, Diana."

"No, it's not. It's illegal. So I'm going to say this one more time and then I'm not speaking to you again— _get me a lawyer._ "

Sheriff Keller resigned, standing up abruptly, his chair screeching its way across the flooring. Then he turned and promptly left the interrogation room with a soured expression of defeat. Either that, or annoyance. A common expression of someone dealing with me as of late. It wasn't long before the door reopened. Sheriff Keller returned to his chair, this time with a manila folder. He slapped the folder onto the metal table as he sat.

My eyebrows instinctively popped but, before I could ask, he started talking. "We've seen ten people come into the ER in just as many days," he explained, as he opened the file. He spread the pictures inside across the table space in front of me and my eyes scanned them, sitting forward an inch in my chair as he continued. "All with varying symptoms—but we have enough to know that it's the same person."

I fingered the photo closest to me. They were a handful of shots from different hospital patients. All wore gowns, pictured in their hospital rooms, with terrible lighting. But it was bright enough to punctuate the gruesome look of them. As the Sheriff's last words left his mouth, my eyes darted up to his face. "Wait- someone did this to these people?" I questioned, rhetorically, in a bout of shock.

He nodded, "It's some kind of poison. We're trying to find a connection between all the victims but, so far, it's incredibly random. It makes me think this is a juvenile—someone with a lack of criminal sophistication-"

"And you think _I_ know who did this?" I sat back in my chair, my hands falling into my lap. "You're crazy. Why would I know someone insane enough to poison the Kool Aid?"

"The Serpents have been more than open about their hatred for the North Side, particularly the young ones. I knew that if any of you had the sense to come clean about this, it would be you, Diana. That's why I wanted to talk to you personally," Keller answered, calmly.

He was genuine in his concern—that much was obvious in his demeanor. But it did anger me, how quick he was to blame the Serpents. Though it honestly wouldn't have surprised me if a young Serpent went rogue and started poisoning people. Maybe even a small group of them. With that thought, I sat up a little straighter. Sheriff Keller didn't notice the moment I realized something so small, yet so devastating.

Sweet Pea wasn't with Fangs and the boys last night to beat down Nick. I bet if I asked, Fangs would spill just where Sweet Pea had been in the weeks prior, too. And I had half a mind to think it wasn't with the boys. His grudge against the North Side was legitimate and it wasn't something to take lightly. But would Sweet Pea really hurt so many people with something so out of control as a poison? I doubted it, but I didn't cross it out.

I wouldn't tell Keller any of this. Instead, I shrugged it off, and held my ground that I had no idea who could've done it. "I don't know anything about a poisoning. If I do find out anything, I'll let you know," I nodded a little. Then, glancing down at the photos, I asked, "How are they? The victims, I mean."

"Dead," Sheriff Keller replied.

" _All_ of them?"

My eyes shot wide, even more so when he nodded. "There's one remaining survivor—she's being taken off life support as we speak. But there's no telling how long it'll be before someone else comes in with similar enough symptoms to link them to this outbreak," he said, grimly. "We're not ruling anything out yet, but we're trying to stay optimistic."

"Sounds like it. It was nice chatting with you but, if that's all, I'd like a lawyer now."

Keller regarded me for a moment, with squinted eyes and a somber expression. Then he nodded once and stood from his chair, before turning and leaving the room, the echo of the heavy metal door clinking shut being the only thing keeping me company for the next ten minutes. At least, that's how far I got before the door opened again. This time, Penny Peabody stepped into the room. She held the door wide open, smirking at me, "Come on, DJ. You're free to go."

I expected nothing less. Penny was a lawyer and I was her loyal lapdog. So I stood from my chair and followed her out of the room. Sheriff Keller stood with Mayor McCoy in the hall, conversing quietly when we exited the room. But their heads turned toward us as we passed. Mayor McCoy's scowl put off actual heat I could feel as I walked by. In a bout of bitter spite, I raised a hand with my index finger and pinky up, winking once.

She looked even more displeased, but I felt a bubbly of laughter fighting to escape me. After we'd passed them, I turned to Penny at my right. "How'd you know I was booked?" I questioned, though inwardly I had a strong feeling I already knew the answer.

"Think I don't know when a Serpent's been arrested? Gotta be honest, I'm a little offended," she answered, with her usual level of patronizing sarcasm. We were walking out of the station as she continued, "It was an easy case—they poked plenty of holes in their own boat."

"What about Sweet Pea, and the others?" I questioned, slowing to a stop at the beginning of the parking lot.

Penny turned to face me, slowing to a stop just a few feet from me, and she smiled as her eyes flickered over my shoulder. "You'll thank me later—go on, go get emotional. But be at the office tonight, 'K?"

Her insinuation caused me to twist to see behind me, and my heart dropped into my feet. Sweet Pea, Fangs, and Toni walked out of the station—along with a handful of other Serpent students. When Sweet Pea's eyes found mine, his shoulders dropped in a visible wave of relief. I was feeling it, too. I hurried forward, and his arms encircled my middle as I wrapped mine around his neck and shoulders, burying my face in the leather of his jacket.

Not a second after, I heard a scoff, followed by a sarcastic tone. "What, _we_ don't get hugs?" it was Fangs.

"You okay? Did they hurt you?" Sweet Pea's voice was hushed but full of urgency, his lips close to my left ear.

"I'm okay," I assured, just before pulling away enough to see his face. " _We're_ okay."

His eyes were still full of worry, but he nodded once, clenching his jaw to suppress it. I looked to Fangs and Toni then, and Fangs held open his arms, taking a step toward us. "My turn," he declared, making a motion with his hands. I let a smile work its way across my lips as I took a deep breath. It was internally difficult, but I let go of Sweet Pea, and I walked into Fangs' open arms. He made an 'ahh' sound of contentment.

Then he said, "I feel better."

I smacked his arm as I stepped away from him, laughing a little before moving on to Toni. She smiled and gave me a quick hug. I didn't know Penny had gone until I glanced around, moving back to Sweet Pea. His arm draped over my shoulders, keeping me against his side, the four of us started walking. To where, we didn't discuss. We were just happy to get away from the Sheriff's Station.

* * *

I pushed through the door to the trailer, Sweet Pea sauntering in behind me, and I immediately shrugged off my jacket and slid off my boots. I hung my jacket up on the rack and collapsed onto the couch, stretching out across its length on my back. Sweet Pea wandered into the kitchen and I heard the fridge door open, followed by the rhythmic clanking of that all too familiar food forage. I let my eyes close for a moment as I relaxed into the couch cushions.

Then I heard Sweet Pea call to me, "Babe, I'm gonna head out for a bit."

It pulled my eyelids open faster than it normally would. I couldn't discern what it was for—the thought of him getting hurt with this new poisoning attack on the town, or the thought of him being the one doing the poisoning. I positioned my arm behind my head to better see him as I replied. "We just got back," I pointed out.

"I know. Fangs just texted-" he stopped suddenly, blinking hard loosing a hoarse cough.

I sat up as my eyebrows pulled together, swinging my legs off the couch. "Pea, are you okay?"

"Yeah...I'm fine."

"You don't look fine."

I'd pushed up from the couch just as he swayed forward, reaching out to brace a hand against the kitchen-living room divider. But that wasn't what sent my heart thrumming into my ears. It was the way he kept moving forward—falling forward, to be specific. "Sweet Pea!" the words squeaked out of my mouth as I dove forward, barely catching his arm in time before he could collapse completely.

My arms held his weight. But then his knees buckled, and all I could do was help guide him more gently to the floor. Being close, I could feel the heat. It radiated off him in waves. He was slick with sweat and another cough escaped him as we reached the flooring. "Sweets, talk to me," I tried, urgently, holding him upright against me. "What happened?"

"I don't...I don't know...I just got really dizzy all of the sudden," he mumbled out the words.

"You're burning up—are you sick?" I exhaled, and slung his arm around my shoulders. "Come on, let's get you into bed."

I tried to pull him up, but he shook his head, very drunkenly looking me in the eye. "I'm alright, D. I just got dizzy."

"Pea, either you're helping me get you in there or you're being dragged. Pick one."

He sighed, but begrudgingly helped as best he could to stand. He leaned in to me quite heavily as we slowly made our way into the back bedroom. I got him sitting on the bed and helped him take off his shoes and plaid shirt, leaving on the black t-shirt he had beneath it. Then I grabbed him a pair of sweatpants from the dresser and left him to change while I soaked a rag in cold water in the kitchen. If it's one thing I didn't need, it was Sweet Pea getting sick.

As I rang out the rag, I recalled what Fangs had said at school. Sweet Pea said he wasn't feeling well last night and couldn't go with the boy to track down Nick. What if he was telling the truth and he's been feeling sick? I felt a pang of guilt, then, for the thought of him being responsible for some poisoning attack ever coming into my mind. I brought the rag into the bedroom with me, just as Sweet Pea appeared to be crawling in beneath the blanket.

He exhaled as he settled in, but held up his hand as I neared the bed. "No, you can't get sick," he shook his head adamantly, speaking clearly again. "Don't get any closer. You can't get sick, D." His tone caught me a little off guard. It was concern, desperation, and guilt. Against his wishes, I stepped up beside the bed, giving him a look.

"Pea, I'm not gonna leave you in here by yourself." I gave a small shake of my head, placing the cold rag against his forehead as he looked up at me. His eyelids fluttered a second against the soothing lower temperature, but he still managed to look displeased, even in his discomfort. His hand came to rest on top of mine—as though he were going to take hold of the rag in place of me, but instead held on, almost as if for reassurance.

* * *

It was late in the afternoon when I got the call from Jughead. The Ghoulies agreed to a race, they were meeting soon, and the whole thing was FP's idea. Honestly, it didn't surprise me he was the one that came up with this plan. The Ghoulies were predictable. They were gullible. They were prideful. So much so they would agree to anything that would puff up their ego, no matter how foolish it would be in the long run.

As long as the Ghoulies _believed_ they were on top, the Serpents stood a chance. It was the right call for the situation—but I wasn't too fond of the idea of Jughead driving a car over the speed limit, especially not under these circumstances. So, to say I was worried, would be the world's biggest understatement. "You're doing _what_?" I questioned, like a broken record.

Jughead exhaled on the other end, "Diana, I know this isn't really your first choice course of action—you're remembering your mom, how she died. But I can do this. And, if I do, the Ghoulies are done."

I rubbed my hand across my forehead and groaned. "What do you need me to do?"

"See me off, for moral support?"

"Alright...I'll be there. Be forewarned—I might be inclined to slap you."

He chuckled, "I wouldn't blame you."

And that's how we ended it. I slid my phone away, into my pocket, and turned to look at Sweet Pea. He was completely out to the wind—had been for a couple hours. Sweat glistened across his forehead and even in his sleep his breathing was labored. It was the last thing I wanted to do, leaving him. But I had to. _He was only sick_ , I told myself. _He would be okay until I got back_.

I crawled across the bed to prop myself up beside him. "Pea? Baby...I have to go for while, but I'll be back as soon as I can," I told him, though I wasn't quite sure he could hear me anyway. "I'm just a call away. I love you." I'd brushed his hair aside and placed a kiss on his temple before departing. Grabbing my Serpent jacket and hitting the road.

Looking back, I wished I had changed a lot of things. Leaving the trailer that day was nearly the highest on my list.


	14. 14: Grave Digger

I pulled up next to Kevin's truck and parked. Cheryl, Reggie, and Kevin were sitting on the hood. It was disgusting, that fact that they were here to cheer or boo—like this was some stupid Riverdale High football game they could score. I made it a point of slamming my door, only further announcing my arrival, before heading toward Jughead and Betty. They stood at the end of Jughead's car, looking pretty serious with whatever they were saying.

It was ended when Jughead looked up and noticed me. "Diana," he said, as I came to stand to the side of Betty. "You're just in time—we're about to start. Where's Sweet Pea? I thought he'd come with you."

"He's not feeling well, so I came alone," I replied, sliding my hands into my pockets.

Betty looked to me then. "Is he okay?"

"He will be, just needs to rest," It was a quick dismissal of her faux concern, but I truly didn't know the answer to her question. All I knew was that I felt like I should be there with him at the trailer. I knew I needed to be here with Jughead. I knew there was no way to do both. After a quick glance to Betty, I looked at Jughead with a singular nod. "Where do you want me?"

Breaking the chatter easily, Tall Boy bellowed, "LET'S DO THIS!"

The individual groups—South, North, and Ghoulie—all cheered and shouted approvingly. Sighing, I stayed a second longer after Betty went to join the other North siders at Kevin's truck. Jughead looked at me knowingly. "I'll be fine," he assured.

I nodded quickly, and I wrapped my arms around his neck and shoulders in a tight embrace. It could only last a minute or it would hold him up. So I had to let go and retreat to the group of Serpents on the other side of the gravel lot. "Let's get these cars on the road!" Tall Boy shouted, as Jughead and Malachi each climbed into their respective vehicles.

This was important. But I found myself checking the clock on my phone. "Got a hot date?" Toni asked, giving me a sideways glance. Her words caused me to sigh at myself, shaking my head as I slid my phone away. Then, more seriously, she added, "None of us would blame you if you had to slip out, you know."

"No, no- I need to be here for Jughead. But, thanks, Toni," I gave her the best smile I could manage.

She smiled back before walking toward the cars. It was typically her job to do the honors, starting the race. But I noticed Cheryl marching on without pause, walking straight for the starting line past Toni. "I usually do the honors," Toni told her, turning to face her.

"Not today, Cha-cha," Cheryl swiveled on her heels to see Toni as she kept walking. "I was born for this moment."

It wasn't something I normally would've expected, but I was a little impressed. It amazed me how Cheryl could stay her even through everything going on in her life. She was still feisty, gave people unbearable nicknames, and practically owned Riverdale High. My life starts falling apart? I completely crumble. I briefly debated asking her how she did it when Toni came back to stand beside me. "That girl's a piece of work," she said, exhaling.

I chuckled once at Toni's words, but a vibration in my jacket caused me to pause before replying. At the last minute, I elected to ignore the interruption and finally replied to Toni, "You have no idea."

Cheryl stepped up in front of the cars and pushed on her red sunglasses. That's when I started to feel it—more vibration. Someone was trying to call me. Whoever it was, I decided, could wait. This was too important. So I ignored it, and watched as Cheryl marked the start of the race. The engines of both cars roared and the vehicles sped off into incredibly fast speeds. Crowd members cheered louder than the engines, chasing after them a ways in support.

Another set of vibrations marked the third attempt to contact me. It would have to be something important, if in fact it was the same person each time. So I dug into my pocket and pulled out my phone. The caller ID read as FP's home number. And, with FP being in jail, I knew it wasn't him. _Who else could it be?_ you ask. I quickly answered the call, holding it up to my ear. "Cash? Is everything okay?"

I had to plug my left ear with my finger in order to hear her small voice at all. Although, the fact that she was screaming helped. "DIANA! WHERE ARE YOU?" she shouted, her usually joyous voice overcome with an unprecedented fear that sent a shiver down my spine. "SOMETHING HAPPENED TO SWEET PEA! WE DON'T KNOW WHAT'S WRONG WITH HIM—HE WON'T WAKE UP!"

My eyes were glossed over orbs at the sound of her words. I could only manage to reply, "Hold on—I'm coming! Stay with him, Cash!"

I ended the call and bolted across the lot to the truck. The keys fumbling in my shaking hands, it was hard to start the thing. But, once I did, I was flooring it out of there. So much so that dust spewed up from the gravel. My speed was sure to leave tire marks. I had to tell myself over and over that Jughead would understand. Surely, he would understand. Wouldn't he? If something happened to Pea...Jughead would understand why I left.

It was a genuine surprise no cop tried to pull me over. If they did, they would have a high-speed car chase on their hands. There was no way I was stopping. And I didn't, not until I burned black marks in the grass in front of the trailer. Don't ask me what that grass ever did to deserve that—because I honestly have no idea. The truck was still running, I left the door open, when I ran to the front door to the trailer.

Fangs, to my surprise, burst through the door before I reached it. "Come on—hurry! He's barely breathing, Diana," he spoke quickly, in sheer panic. I was panicked, too. But it came off as calm, focus. Despite the fact that I was about to start shaking too hard to function. My hands trembled at my sides as I followed Fangs quickly to the back bedroom, where Cash stood beside the bed, Sweet Pea's seemingly lifeless body laying there in front of her.

Tears streamed her cheeks, though she looked more scared than sad. I rushed to the side of the bed and Fangs pulled Cash toward the end of it to keep her out of the way. Lord knows I would've bulldozed right over her in my state of mind. Sweet Pea was an ungodly shade of pale, skin glistening with beads of sweat, his head slumped onto his shoulder. The first thing I did—the only thing I could think to do—was check for a pulse.

I could barely feel anything at all. It was hard to tell what was my mind messing with me and what was real. Regardless, he felt completely still. That's when I made a command decision, one that probably should've been made a lot sooner. "Fangs, help me get him into the truck," I said, briefly glancing at Fangs over my shoulder. "We have to get him to the hospital— _now_!"

Fangs let go of Cash only to come help me. He took Sweet Pea's upper half, I took his legs, and together we struggled to maneuver the massive teenager through the cramped trailer to the door. Cash trailed just behind Fangs, as I was walking backward carrying Sweet Pea's legs. "I thought hospitals were off limits-?" Fangs began to ask rhetorically, still very much panicked.

"I don't care!" I snapped, in my over-emotional state of being. "Look at him, Fangs—he's dying! Do you want him to die?"

Fangs quickly shook his head, "No."

"Then let's hurry, okay?"

He tried readjusting his arms under Sweet Pea's, bettering his ability to carry him—as small an improvement as it was. We hefted Sweet Pea out to the truck and got him in the passenger seat. Cash ran around to the driver's side in front of me and climbed up into the middle seat beside Sweet Pea. I climbed into the driver's seat after her. Fangs jumped into the bed of the truck, slapping the side when he was seated.

Seconds after his cue, I was flooring it back out of the trailer park. If the truck had hazard lights, they would be on, but that was something FP neglected to think needed in an automobile. Being on the South Side, we were even farther away from the hospital than Archie was when he drove his father to the ER while the man was bleeding through his gut. The odds of getting him there in time were slim. But I drove fast regardless.

The pedal was pressed to the floor of the cab the entire drive through the South Side, then through the North, until we reached the Emergency parking at the hospital. Brakes squealing, the front tires popped up on the curb, but it didn't matter. I was immediately out and so was Fangs, both of us scrambling for the passenger door. "Cash, go get a doctor!" I told her, loud enough to hear from the other side of the truck.

Cash nodded quickly and unbuckled, sliding out of the truck. She ran as fast as her little legs could carry her through the Emergency doors and disappeared from my sight, but I could hear her voice shouting incoherent things once inside. Once again, Fangs took the heavier load and hefted Sweet Pea's torso, while I resumed my position holding his legs. We shuffled quickly in through the doors. Cash had garnered the attention of a few nurses and Dr. Masters was even coming around.

I would've been praising her, full of pride, had the circumstances not been so dire. Fangs and I carried Sweet Pea in, and the nurses helped us lift him onto the gurney they'd rolled to us just past the door. "What happened?" Dr. Masters asked, as they began to push the gurney toward Doctors Only doors.

My feet moved quickly to keep up with them, all the while trying to keep my thoughts straight enough to answer him. "I- I don't know—I thought he was sick. Dizziness, coughing, fever. I left only for thirty minutes when my sister called me and said he was barely breathing," I explained, in a rush. "He looked like this when I got there."

Dr. Masters began directing nurses and barking orders, naming things I couldn't possible remember enough to repeat. They wheeled Sweet Pea through the doors to the restricted section of hospital. I just about followed through, but Fangs' arms wrapped around my torso, grabbing me and pulling me back to stop me. It was hard not to fight him, but it was harder not to fall apart. Cash caught up to us then, out of breath.

"Is he going to be okay?" she questioned, her breathless voice full of worry.

I couldn't answer her. I just couldn't force myself to speak. Fangs, seemingly sensing this, answered instead. "He's going to be okay—they're gonna fix him up," he said, only to reassure her. He couldn't stand to see her like that—shoot, neither could I. "Let's go to the waiting room, okay? We'll hang out there until he's ready to go home."

She nodded tiredly, relieved. "Okay."

Fangs pulled me with his arms still around me, now loosening a little. "Diana...come on. We can't do anything for him right now," he said, his voice quiet so close to my ear. Reluctantly, against my heart's wishes, I went along with him and Cash back to the waiting room. Fangs shortly let go of me on the walk there, and he sat with Cash as soon as we arrived. But there was no way I could sit still. Not right then. It was too fresh.

So I didn't. Instead, I elected to go to the bathroom and then try to get ahold of the other Serpents. Fangs was reluctant to let me go anywhere alone. But I stressed that I was pregnant and I had to pee. It worked. I pushed through the door to the women's bathroom and I was thankful to find myself alone. The first thing I did was run the cold water and splash way too much of it in my face. I scrubbed my facial skin, grinding in the cold water.

As if that was somehow going to make it more effective. After I turned off the water, I dried my face with the crummy paper towels from the half broken dispenser by the door. It was all too fast. Just this morning, Sweet Pea was more than okay. He was capable of fighting against restraints and police officers—he looked healthy, unstoppable. Now...now he was fighting for his life. But why? That was the part I couldn't figure out. Why Sweet Pea? Why now?

Pushing my thoughts aside, I did in fact pull out my phone and dial Jughead's number. The hope was that the race was over and he would be able to answer. If not, my next call would've been to Toni. But, surprisingly, Jughead answered. "Hey, Diana," he greeted, sounding a bit aggravated. "Where'd you go? Toni said you just took off, didn't say anything? What's going on?"

"Sweet Pea isn't sick—something else is going on with him. Cash called me from the trailer when the race started...said he wasn't breathing...we're at the hospital now."

His voice suddenly became more focused, more serious. "What? Is he okay?"

"I don't- I don't know, Jughead," I admitted, shaking my head as my eyes connected with my own gaze in the mirror. I was a pitiful sight when I cried. The water was filling up my eyes and the image the glass reflected was becoming less visible to me by the second. It was about to spill over. It was about to be too much.

"I'm going to get the other Serpents and we'll be there in a few minutes, okay? Just...hold on, Diana."

I nodded, knowing it didn't matter—he couldn't see it anyway. "Okay. Hurry, Jug."

"I will," he answered, surely, before the line went silent. He'd ended the call. I ended my side of the conversation and slid my cell phone in my jacket pocket, where I'd gotten it from. It was then my throat felt too constricted. It was hard to breathe without a sharp pain in my airway, but I forced myself to take deep breaths. There was no time to break down—not now. I needed to be out there when Dr. Masters came back.

When he came to tell us Sweet Pea would be just fine, and this was some dramatization of something simple and non-lethal. So I wiped my eyes dry with some of the pitiful paper from the dispenser, pushed through the bathroom door, and walked the hall to the waiting room. I dropped into the chair beside Fangs and he turned to me. "Did you get ahold of them?" he asked, eagerly.

Cash sat on his lap, her back reclined against his chest. She looked sleepy, tired—and I briefly wondered how she could fall asleep at a time like this, before I reminded myself that she was just a child. She'd believed Fangs when he said Sweet Pea would be okay, so she felt at ease enough to be tired from the event and fall asleep. "Yeah," I finally answered Fangs. "Jughead's going to bring some Serpents. They'll be here soon."

"That's good. How are you holding up?"

I exhaled, "As good as I can be."

"Diana," my body jolted at the familiar voice of Sheriff Keller, a second before I glanced up to see him standing beside my chair. He wore a semi-sympathetic expression, looking directly at me. "I wish I didn't have to say this, but I'm afraid there's no way around it. Dr. Masters and I have agreed...that it seems Sweet Pea is a victim of the next round of poisoning."

For a bone-chilled moment, I didn't respond. I couldn't. I could only stare at him, wide-eyed and paralyzed, frozen like a deer in headlights. "Wait, what are you talking about? Poisoning?" Fangs questioned, leaning toward me and Sheriff Keller.

I pushed up from my chair then, trying to calm the whirlwind of emotions swirling in my chest. "How do you know that? You said it yourself—the symptoms and circumstances are completely random. You can't possibly tie Sweet Pea to this."

Sheriff Keller sighed ruefully. "Actually, it's not as random as we thought. We've been able to identify each separate poison. They appear to be tailored to that specific individual, but they're all delivered the same way—through the lungs. There's significant burning to each victims lungs. Did your boyfriend smoke anything—cigarettes, marijuana?"

"He...he smokes but- no, he's been out."

"I bought him a pack a couple nights ago," Fangs spoke up then, shattering all hope I had for the situation.

I twisted to see him while staying in my stance. "When? What night?"

"Um...Friday," he said, causing me to rub my temples and exhale. Fangs continued in a slight ramble, "He didn't wanna smoke them inside—or around you at all, really. So he came to my trailer or hit me up at school. When he said he wasn't feeling well, I didn't think-"

"Nor could you have," Sheriff Keller interrupted, giving Fangs a singular nod of reassurance.

As I turned to Sheriff Keller again, I asked, "What's going to happen to Sweet Pea, then? You said all the other victims are _dead_."

"Well...it's a case by case basis as far as treatment goes. Dr. Masters will be able to explain more of that for you," Keller explained. "On my end, there isn't much I can do. I'll try to follow the cigarettes—make sure they didn't change hands before or after purchase. But...I'm afraid that's it for the time being."

Dr. Masters appeared then, walking to the waiting room from the hallway. Fangs stood as he approached, hefting up Cash's now sleeping form in his arms as not to wake her, and he came to stand beside me. "Are you his family?" Dr. Masters asked me.

"I'm his girlfriend. But- but- Sweet Pea doesn't have any other family—we're all he's got," I answered, quickly.

"His flu-like symptoms appear to be masking the poison's true effect on his body," he explained, glancing between Fangs and I. Sheriff Keller listened intently, but stayed aside, out of the way. "He's incredibly dehydrated, a bit anemic, but the most troubling is the condition of his lungs. They're struggling to function on their own. We have him on a ventilator and we're administering fluids. When the blood work gets back from the lab, we'll better know how to treat him."

I nodded slowly as I absorbed the information. "Can we see him?" Fangs asked, before I could.

Dr. Masters nodded. "Yes. He's unconscious, but you can sit with him. Come with me."


	15. 15: Hold On For Your Life

Doctor Masters led the way down the hallway to Sweet Pea's room, much like the one I'd had when hospitalized after my suicide attempt. It looked almost identical. Fangs and I walked in behind Masters, Fangs still carrying Cash, and the doctor excused himself from the room—most likely to deal with other patients. My eyes stuck on Sweet Pea, I couldn't force myself to move any closer.

I wanted to look away. I wanted to think of Sweet Pea how he _should_ be, not how he was. But it was like I couldn't even move my eyes now. My mind was reeling. He was still very pale, dressed in a hospital gown. What mostly caught my eye was the mechanics where the breathing tube was situated between his lips. The beeping of the monitor was almost enough to drown out the sound of my heart breaking. Almost.

Fangs sat Cash in the plush chair in the far corner, careful not to wake her as he lowered her onto the cushion. Then he turned and took a few steps toward me. "Diana..." his voice was gentle, concerned. He put a hand on my shoulder. "He's going to be okay—you have to believe that. He needs us right now."

I couldn't think of much else than Sheriff Keller's words from this morning in the interrogation room. What he'd told me about the poisoning, the victims...how none of them survived. But I nodded slowly, once or twice, and exhaled. "I'll wait out front and bring Jughead in when he gets here, okay?" Fangs said.

"Okay."

He gave my shoulder a reassuring squeeze, before walking past me and exiting the room. If I was being honest with myself, I would say that the last thing I needed right then was to be alone. But there I was, standing feet from the bed, feeling completely out of place yet unable to make myself do anything else. It was obvious I was still in shock. My head was starting to throb and my eyes were burning.

This whole situation was a mess. I wanted to believe that there was a way to help Sweet Pea, more than anything. But I couldn't ignore the facts. It put me in this odd state of emotional confliction. Either way I looked at it, I felt sick to my stomach. And my nausea is what finally brought me to a chair beside the bed. With all that was going on, I didn't at all think about what this stress must be doing to the baby.

Nothing good, I would assume. I tried to take some deep breaths and relax in my chair. It was to no avail. But at least I could say that I tried. The monitor's beeping was starting to sound more like nails on a chalk board but I tried to ignore it, leaning forward with my forearms on the edge of the bed. If I was supposed to be saying something, I didn't know what it was. All I did was act purely absentminded.

My thoughts were a thick cloud that covered my mind and refused to go away—no matter how hard I tried. I reached up, brushed his hair back from his forehead with my fingertips. "Diana," Fangs' voice nearly made me jump out of my skin. I twisted in my chair to see the door just as Fangs was walking in, with Jughead, Toni, and Tall Boy right behind him. "The others are here."

When I saw Jughead, I found myself exhaling in relief. I pushed myself up from my chair immediately and hurried toward him. Jughead stepped around Fangs and opened his arms, wrapping them tightly around me when I walking into them. I buried my face in the shoulder of his Serpent jacket. "I came as fast as I could," he said, voice just above a whisper.

"What are the doctors sayin'?" Tall Boy asked, to no one in particular.

It irked me, having him here. Thankfully, Fangs answered instead of me—because I wouldn't have been so nice. "It's poison. Keller told Diana there were others, too," Fangs explained, a bit rushed and slightly winded. "It's some kind of outbreak or something. There's no antidote."

"What? Who makes a poison without an antidote?" Toni questioned.

I pulled away from Jughead, and he rubbed his hand up and down my back in a comforting motion. "You okay?" he whispered to me, briefly ignoring the conversation of the others. Looking into his eyes, I didn't know how to lie. So I shook my head, a little misty-eyed, and mouthed 'no'.

"What did Keller tell you, Diana?" Tall Boy asked me.

Sighing heavily, my eyes fell to the floor. "He said there were other victims, all with different poisons, and all of them died. No one has survived. He thinks Sweet Pea was poisoned from a cigarette," I answered, through a tight jaw. "They're running tests to figure out how to treat it."

Toni was at my side then, running her hand up my arm. It caused me to look up from the floor and to her face. "We're gonna get through this," she reassured, nodding slowly. "We're all here for you—anything you need, you got it. You're not alone, Diana."

I managed a small, pitiful smile. "Thank, Toni."

"What are they doing to catch this b-"

" _I don't know,_ " I gritted my teeth, looking up at Tall Boy.

His stare was a slight glare, but even he looked like he wasn't about to push it. Something I didn't really expect from him. I expected him not to care. I expected him to bulldoze over everyone and make this into a rant about how terrible North siders were, that he'd somehow be the hero and fix everything because he was just that awesome. "Diana?" Sheriff Keller's voice rang in my ears yet again, and I turned to see him standing at the door. "Mind if I have a word?"

I sighed, but I followed him into the hall. Toni gave my shoulder a reassuring squeeze before I did and I smiled at her the most I could. Sheriff Keller stopped walking just a few feet from the room—just out of earshot, conveniently—and turned around to face me. "We've recently found some new evidence that this outbreak may have something to do with the Black Hood," he told me.

My eyebrows knitted questioningly, "What evidence?"

He reached into his pocket, a second later unearthing a folded piece of white paper. "Our deputies found these taped to the doors of the victims' houses this morning," he explained, as he unfolded it for me to see. "We dusted for prints, asked the neighbors—but there's no other evidence than our assumption."

I took the paper to better see it, my eyes scanning it carefully. In big, bold letters was scribbled—with some kind of Sharpie marker—the word SINNER, at the top of the page. Below was something simple, but it sent a shiver down my spine. Probably because I knew it was right. Just not in the way you would traditionally expect. It said, YOU'RE NEXT. Sheriff Keller sighed. "Have you received anything like this?" he asked.

"No," I replied, shaking my head.

"I have deputies talking to workers at the store Fangs bought the cigarettes from," he said, changing the subject just slightly. "I don't know what we'll find, but we'll keep on it. Someone was bound to have seen or heard something."

Exhaling, I folded the paper again and gave it back to him. "Thank you, Sheriff Keller."

"I'm just doing my job. How are you holding up? Do you need anything?" he asked, stuffing the paper into his pocket.

It was a nice thought but, even if I did need something, I didn't know if I would ask for it. I opened my mouth to reply when I heard my name from down the hall. Over Keller's shoulder, I could see Veronica, Betty, Archie, and Kevin walking toward us from the waiting area. Veronica was ahead of the others, walking faster. She reached me first.

She wrapped her arms around me tightly as soon as she was close enough, and I hugged her back just as tightly. "I'm so sorry we weren't here sooner," she apologized, before pulling back enough to see my face. "Are you okay? How is he?"

"I'm okay. Sweet Pea's a fighter—he's holding on," I nodded as I replied, though it wasn't really necessary.

"What are the doctors saying?" Kevin asked, closest to me in the group—besides Veronica.

"It's some kind of poison. Your dad thinks it's the Black Hood," I answered, glancing at Sheriff Keller briefly before continuing on. "I'm honestly not that surprised—if the Black Hood wanted a sinner, he sure found one. I'm not sure the other victims qualified, though."

Betty piped up, "Other victims?"

"There were ten others, all connected to the same outbreak. The Black Hood leaving messages on the victims' front doors is the only real lead we have—along with Sweet Pea being poisoned by a cigarette. We're doing the best we can to figure this out," Keller answered her, hands on his hips in his usual stance.

With a singular nod, he excused himself, but not before telling me he'd be back if something new came up. I appreciated his willingness to fully investigate this, especially considering the Sheriff's Department hasn't rather cared about the South Side too much thus far. It probably helped that I was friends with his son. At least, that was the last he knew. Jughead stepped out of Sweet Pea's room then, and he came over to stand with us.

He looked surprised to see Archie, Veronica, and Kevin. I knew mostly because of his pointed look to Betty. "You guys _all_ came?" he asked, a bit quietly. If Jughead was trying to insinuate something discretely, he was failing royally. It was blindingly obvious.

Betty shrugged a little, pandering, "I- I thought Diana could use the extra support."

"It's okay, Jug," I put a hand on Jughead's shoulder, causing him to look at me. Then I looked to Archie, Veronica, and Kevin in turn as I continued. "Why don't you guys come inside? There's plenty of room. You two work out your funk—and leave it out here."

I grabbed Veronica's hand and she followed me into Sweet Pea's room. Kevin and Archie were reluctant to come inside, but they did, staying close to the door in case of a need for escape. Well, escape from the Serpents was only primal for Archie. Kevin would only need to bolt if things got scary between Archie and a Serpent. "What are _they_ doing here?" Tall Boy questioned me, jutting his chin toward the North siders in the room.

"Showing our support for Diana and Sweet Pea," Veronica answered, boldly.

Tall Boy all but rolled his eyes. "I'm going to make some calls."

After excusing himself, he disappeared into the hallway. As I looked over the room, I noticed Fangs was sitting with Cash in his lap again—probably due to no other real place to sit than that already occupied chair. That, and it seemed he and I shared Cash as a sibling now. Toni sat on the end of the hospital bed, on the side opposite the door, with her legs folded on the bed in front of her. Her Serpent jacket lay draped over the railing at the end of the bed behind her.

I didn't know how long we waited. Eventually, Betty and Jughead both entered the room. Tall Boy never returned. And, for me, that was probably the best thing to happen that day. Archie, Kevin, and Jughead sat on the floor by the wall beside Fangs and Cash in the chair, and Betty and Veronica sat on the floor against the adjacent wall opposite the chair, while I sat in the only other real chair—positioned at Sweet Pea's bedside.

The room was extremely quiet. Between random comments, the monitor's soft beeping filled the void. It was all we could do—wait. Until the heart-stopping moment when the monitor's began to wail loudly, startling everyone in the room. It startled everyone up off the floor and Toni off the bed. The lines of the heart monitor were quickly becoming flatter by the second. I lurched from my chair and dove into the hallway.

Even though the monitor could probably be heard halfway across the hospital, I screamed for a doctor anyway. For anyone possible to help. Nurses and Doctor Masters sprinted down the hall, into the room behind me. They ordered everyone out to allow for more space. Archie, Kevin, Jughead, Betty, and Veronica hurried out. Fangs took a second longer to carry Cash, but he and Toni weren't too far behind them.

I stayed at the doorway, with a back step to remain out of the way, unable to move myself further. When a nurse saw I wasn't leaving, she came over to me and pushed lightly on my shoulders to guide me out. "I'm sorry, Miss, but you need to wait outside," she insisted.

"Wait- what's going on? What's happening to him?" I questioned, frantically.

Seeing him in his current state was the worst sight I thought I'd see that day. But, instead, the worst thing was seeing Doctor Masters start chest compressions, listening to the monitor remain flat lined all the while. It felt like I couldn't breathe. Like I was choking on emptiness. I felt arms from behind, hands grabbing onto my upper arms and shoulders to pull me back. Once I was out of the way, the nurse pulled the curtain at the door across.

It obstructed view almost completely. But she'd only given it a tug, leaving a four to five inch gap on the left side of the door. I didn't know who held me still until I felt it was Jughead who pulled me into his chest, trying to comfort me. Saying Sweet Pea was going to be okay, telling me not to watch. My left ear was pressed to his chest, my right covered by his left hand, but I could still hear the solid sound—Sweet Pea was still dead.

I squeezed my eyes shut, so tightly I saw a shade of red. It felt like it was all falling down around me. My fingers gripped the leather of Jughead's jacket to anchor myself to something. Then, suddenly I heard the steady beeping of the machine. Doctor Masters' voice came through the curtain, "Alright, he's stable. When is that blood work coming back?"

A nurse responded, but I wasn't quite listening. I was lifting my head, peeling myself from Jughead, to look through the space in the curtain. Sure enough, Doctor Masters talked with a nurse for a second before heading for the door, pulling back the curtain. The breath I exhaled was unexpected. Doctor Masters walked out to us just outside the door and stood, looking mostly at me as he spoke. "He's stable now, but we're going to keep him under closer observation," he announced. "The blood work we ran should be back any minute. I'll let you know the results."

I nodded a little, and he left us to walk down the hall. The nurses cleared out of the room soon enough and we were able to go back inside. When I dropped into the chair beside the bed, all I could do was watch him. It was like my heart stopped the second his did, except mine didn't start again, causing my lungs to restrict—almost painfully so. And there was nothing I could do about it. I felt a hand touch my shoulder, and I exhaled.

"Hey, girl," Toni stood beside my chair, and she squatted before continuing, looking up at me. It was barely enough to make to me look in her direction. "He's still with us. Have you _ever_ known Sweet Pea to give up? No, because he's too stubborn. We're in this for the long haul—no one is giving up yet."

Her voice was soft and quiet and comforting. All I wanted to do was cry. But I didn't. Looking back on it, I was probably still too in shock to function to all. In the moment, I didn't know what to think of it. I turned my head to look down at her. "I'm so scared, Toni," I forced out a strained whisper. It was all I could manage.

Toni's features sunk into her face, her head tilting in a sympathetic expression. It's hard in such an emotional situation to think of anyone else's problems but yours. All you can feel is your own pain, and those feelings are the only things that are real to you. But with that one expression I could see through her tough girl facade. She was hurting just as much as I was. I moved to hug her, and she seemed to catch on, reaching up to wrap her arms around me.

She held on so tightly I was afraid she might break one of my ribs. The slight pain was almost comfortable. It distracted from the lack of oxygen being moved through my lungs. Due to the positioning, she couldn't hold forever, though I wouldn't really have a problem if she did. Toni eventually retracted and resumed sitting in her spot at the end of the bed. The absence was immediately felt, leaving me feeling cold.

Cash had woken up during the monitor's loud blaring and Doctor Masters' CPR. She sat upright in Fangs' lap, his knees lightly bouncing her, but she looked incredibly bored. After a while of silence, she finally sighed, and piped up, "Why isn't Sweet Pea better yet?"

"We're waiting on some tests to tell us what medicine he needs," Fangs answered her, calmly.

"Then he can come home?" she asked, hopeful.

Fangs nodded, "Yeah, then he can come home."

I didn't know why, or how, but Fangs Fogarty was the world's best at reasoning tragedy to children. There was no hesitation, no negative emotions—always the right words phrased just the right way. It was like watching an infomercial that wasn't terribly scripted and corny. A rare occurrence in the marketing world. Just after Fangs had spoken, Doctor Masters entered the room. I knew only when I twisted to see what the others were looking at.

I'd gotten up from my chair, seeing the clipboard he held in his hands. The results. Betty stood from the floor then, Veronica quickly following suit. "Why don't Veronica and I take Cash to the vending machines?" Betty suggested. "Are you hungry, Cash?"

Cash only nodded and hopped off of Fangs' lap, but Jughead responded, "She's _always_ hungry."

"Why don't we come with you guys?" Archie said, getting up as well, Kevin following suit.

Betty nodded and she, Veronica, Kevin, and Archie all took Cash out of the room. It was a nice gesture. They probably figured Doctor Masters was going to be giving out information they shouldn't hear. All that was left was me, Fangs, Jughead, and Toni. The other three came to stand just behind me before Doctor Masters started speaking. "Our tests showed the ingredients of this toxin, and I'm afraid there's no definite cure," he announced.

"Isn't there _something_ you can do to fix this?" Toni was the first to speak up, sounding a little angered.

"There are some things we can try to reverse the poison's effects on a superficial level, but most of the damage has already been done," Doctor Masters replied. "His lungs are struggling to function at all at this point and the next step is for it to enter his bloodstream. Once that happens, it's a matter of minutes for it to reach his heart and we lose him completely."

Fangs exhaled heavily, turning and stepping away, with his head in his hands. Jughead's shoulders dropped and he looked crestfallen. But Toni sidled up to me, locking her fingers with mine at my side,

and I moved my other arm across my front to grip the leather arm of her jacket. I inhaled a deep breath, though I felt like I was drowning. "How long does he have?" I asked, looking up at Doctor Masters.

Masters exhaled, "Right now, it doesn't look like he'll survive the night."


	16. 16: Bruises

And once again I was alone. The beeping of the heart monitor was deafening. It was like the sound was vibrating my rib cage with every pulse, the sharp edges making my muscles ache. I exhaled a shaky breath to ward off the emotions threatening to overtake me. It was a battle I seemed to be destined to lose.

But that was okay. No one else was here to see it but me. An unconscious mind does not count. Thoughts of the worst had been pulling me into a place I didn't want to be—a place I shouldn't go. Though, I couldn't really help it. The one thing I couldn't stand to lose, was sure to be lost. That knowledge had been eating away at me for hours. I'd been able to deal with it up until this point. This point when my friends made the mistake of leaving me alone.

It was ridiculous—to think of how fast we'd gotten to this point of near bitter end. I couldn't help but try to picture the last time he looked normal, my eyes having nothing to do with themselves other than trace his relaxed features. But I forced myself to look away after a quick glance. I couldn't take more than that. I had to look at something else. The flowery drapes. The soft moonlight on the street outside the window. Or, my old friend, the floor tiles.

There was no point trying to conceal it. As I lifted my eyes to settle them on the pale skin of his face, I felt them begin to sting. It was almost overwhelming—the sudden ache bringing on a few stray tears. Hot water droplets rolled down my skin, leaving traces of their existence behind like an avalanche. "I know this is the part where I say something happy and heartfelt...but I can't do that," I swiped my tongue across my dry lips before continuing. "Things don't look good. And...I'm trying—I really am. But this feels so _final_ and I-"

No sound came out. My lips formed the words, but they were replaced by a squeak of a sob beginning, and I clamped a hand over my mouth. I squeezed my eyes shut. This was impossible. Impossible to keep myself together even long enough to say the words I should've said weeks ago. So I didn't try. Removing my hand from my mouth, I sniffled, and moved to sit on the edge of my seat, taking his limp hand in both of mine on the hospital bed.

He felt cold. Too cold. Just weeks ago, I'd felt his warm skin on mine in an embrace and I'd heard his heartbeat. Now he looked like he barely had one. Washed out skin, slightly sunken features, bags beneath his eyes. And he was cold. He'd never felt so cold. The tears kept rolling, but I did my best to keep talking—even though all I wanted to do was run.

Run right out the door and never look back at the pain waiting for me here. "You can't leave me tonight. I don't care what the doctors say. Don't leave me," I propped my elbows on the edge of the bed, reaching up a hand to brush his hair back behind his ear. "I can't do this without you, Pea. _We_ can't do this without you. So you can't leave just yet, okay? Please…just stay with me."

There was no way on this green Earth I was going to try and raise a child without him. Sure, I had Jughead and FP and a plethora of Serpent and North side friends. But nothing compared. How could it? I knew what it was like to grow up without parents after a certain point. This child would grow up without a father from the very start. It wouldn't even get a chance, and neither would Sweet Pea. All of this was incredibly unfair.

Though, there was nothing I could do to fix this kind of unfair. And that's what got to me the most. That at any second he could die and there wouldn't be a thing I could do. I was so helpless in all of it. That was when it all changed—the moment I thought those things. A vibration lit up my jacket pocket, startling me, causing me to look down in surprise. I didn't expect anyone to be calling me then. But, it wasn't just anyone.

I found that out when I answered, "Hello?"

"Hello, Diana. This is the Black Hood."

The voice was definitely male, but it was mechanical and computerized. Obviously something to mask his true identity. Still, part of me was skeptical. "Why are you calling _me_?" I questioned, raising an eyebrow though no one could see.

"Because, right now, we have something in common—we both need something."

I was confused by this, "And what exactly do you think I need?"

" _Him_ ," my muscles were rigid, and I understood what he meant. He continued shortly, "You want to save him. You can do that, but you have to help me first. Do what I tell you and I'll give you an antidote that will cure him."

"What do you want me to do?"

I asked purely out of curiosity. Looking back, I could see just where I went wrong. And it was that question right there. I never should have kept the conversation going—I should have hung up and ignored any more attempts at contact. But this is me we're talking about. I don't make smart decisions, as you've probably learned by now. Well, it gets worse.

"Get in your truck and drive to four-four-three Silver Pine Road. I'll explain more when you arrive."

"Hold on—how do I know this is real?" I asked.

The line was dead. This encounter felt like chance but it was clearer in his phrases that it had a good chance of being planned. Exhaling, I stood up from my chair and stepped closer to the bed. "I'm going to fix this," I whispered, leaning down. "I'll be right back."

I kissed his forehead and left the room, not daring to look back. If I did, I knew I would think better of it. But the Black Hood was behind the poisonings. That much was clear from the papers pinned to the front doors of the victims' houses. This event wasn't public knowledge. Only someone close to it could know who the victims were. If I showed at the location and nothing happened, I would know it was fake and I wasted my time.

If I showed at the location and someone else was there, I would know it was real and there might be a chance to turn this all around. Maybe it was something small, the thing I had to do. I wouldn't know unless I went. I followed the directions on my phone to the address the Black Hood gave me. It wasn't an area I was familiar with. Probably because I didn't make it a habit of getting close to Sweetwater River.

* * *

I pulled up in front of the old, run down shack holding the numbers 443 on it's doorpost, and I cut the engine. The front window was broken in. Moss covered the parts of the roof visible and any wood in sight on the small building. I pushed open my door and slid out, closing the door behind me before I took steps along the front of the building. Surveying the place. There was a broken, rusted out sign on the ground near the far corner.

Lowering to my knees, I brushed the dirt off the front of the sign. The words slowly became clear, spelling it out completely— _Wes' Bait & Tackle_. Though I was sure I'd never heard it before, the name felt familiar. My father's name was Wes. Bulldog was only a nickname, but that's never what I called him growing up. The sign was odd, but I wrote it off as I put it back, waving it away as coincidental. Just as I stood up, the phone in my hand vibrated.

It was the same unknown number that dialed me from before, at the hospital. The Black Hood's number. I answered it at my own pace, in no hurry to hear from him again. I was convinced the emotions I'd been feeling during that wretched day had clouded my mind enough to keep me from making informed decisions. But I don't know if I wouldn't have made the same decisions under different mental circumstances.

"Well...I'm here. Now what?" I asked, into the phone, as I walked back to the truck.

The Black Hood replied, "Go to the dock behind the building."

Cautiously, I trekked on. I walked around the corner of the building and went behind it. There wasn't much light other than that from the moon, but I could see the outline of the dock not that far from the back of the shack. "This is where it all started for you—the river. Where they found Jason's body," the Black Hood talked in my ear, as I still held the phone there. "Where you drowned, only to be revived moments later. How does it feel, coming back from the dead?"

"Enough with the conversation. What am I doing here?"

"There's a box at the start of the dock. Open it."

Sure enough, there was an ammo box just at the start of the wooden dock. Still holding the phone to my ear, I knelt down, and my fingers unlocked the box. "Inside," the Black Hood continued, as I did this. "You'll find a gun. Take it." As the lid of the box flipped open, I saw this supposed gun. A silver revolver. I reached in and took it from the box.

That wasn't the first time in my life I'd held a gun. Bulldog taught me how to use one when I was younger. I checked to see how many bullets were loaded, and I found there only to be one. "Alright...I have your stupid gun. Now what?" I questioned.

"Go to the end of the dock," as soon as the words came out, I started walking. My eyes were still adjusting to the darkness of the night. Though, there was something coming into focus almost at the end. Deep down, I think I knew what this was. I might have known when he first called me at the hospital. It was a man, on his knees, hands behind his back, with a black covering over his head. "Take off the hood."

The man breathed heavily, but held relatively still. Until I reached forward and plucked off the hood, revealing his identity, and showing him exactly where he was. I startled backward at the sight of him. I knew exactly who this man was. " _Dilton_?" I asked it out of sheer shock, but I didn't need to. His eyes went wide as he stared up at me, and he began to wriggle against the restraints keeping his arms behind his back.

Breathing heavily now, I turned to the phone. "What is this?!" I questioned, as the weight of this situation fully started to hit me. It should have come to me sooner. But I wanted to believe it would be something simple, something small. Not something the Black Hood could easily do himself.

"An execution," the Black Hood answered. "He's a sinner. Kill him, and I'll give you the antidote."

For a moment, it still didn't make sense. But then I remembered a single biblical phrase. "An eye for an eye," I realized aloud. My eyes shifted down to Dilton, and he shouted through the gag in his mouth. "So...you want me to kill a sinner to redeem a sinner? If I save one, I have to kill the other—like a trade?"

"I knew you were smart enough to figure it out."

"H-how do I know this is even real? How do I know that if I kill him, you'll hold up your end of the deal? Or that you won't video tape this and use it against me?" I asked the Black Hood, simply to gain time at this point. Time to think, time to decide. Time to tell myself no.

He answered, "You'll just have to trust me. Do it, and Sweet Pea will be off life support by the time you get back to the hospital. Don't...and you've just wasted whatever time you had left with him. It's your choice, Diana. Make it now."

The line went dead. Slowly, I slid my phone back into my jacket pocket. It was ridiculous just how easy it would be. Before Jason was murdered months ago, I wouldn't even have considered this. But something changed in me that night in the basement of the Wyrm, when I beat a man senseless just because Tall Boy told me to. Violence wasn't something I completely ruled out anymore. Sure, I talked loud. But that's all it was. Talk.

Now, I was just fine having the boys beat up Nick St. Clair—I fought for it, even. I was actually considering taking a life in order to save one. I always wondered how those people in movies told themselves what they did was acceptable. I was about to find out. Given my mental state, I hadn't noticed before that Dilton didn't have his glasses on. He'd disappeared after the road fight with the Serpents and the Bulldogs.

I guess now I knew where he'd been. Or, at least, where he ended up. I looked down at the revolver I clutched in my right hand, turning it sideways a little to fully see the barrel. I'd felt so guilty with something as small as being a drug-runner for Penny Peabody. How guilty would I feel for something as big as this? There was only one way to find out. Lifting the gun, I took a half-step back. Dilton wriggled wildly, shaking his head and shouting muffled cries through the gag.

Dilton and I never had much contact. He wasn't a friend, or a friend of a friend. Just someone that spent too much time with guns of his own and other peoples' kids. I felt nothing personal for him, but I did feel sorry. Sorry I hadn't won in the argument against myself. Everyone in Riverdale was a sinner—you wouldn't find a single person that hadn't done something they shouldn't have. Why the Black Hood picked Dilton Doiley was beyond me.

For a quiet moment, I stood there like that—with the gun aimed at his head—unable to move in anyway. And then the gun went off.

* * *

I pulled into the parking lot outside the emergency entrance and cut the engine, stumbling out of the truck as fast as I could without falling flat on my face. The door barely got shut before I was racing in through the doors. My feet carried me down the hallway to his room. As I reached the door, Fangs was coming out as I was trying to go in, and our fronts collided with a hollow thud. I bounced back a few unstable steps with a small squeak.

Fangs shuffled back in surprise, but reached out quickly and grabbed me, before I could fall. "Whoa- Diana!" he almost shouted, eyes wide. "Where have you been?!"

"I had to check on Killer, and I needed some fresh air," I lied.

"Doctor Masters said Sweet Pea's responding to treatment!" he exclaimed, lighting up like a Christmas tree. I tried to act surprised, but it was hard—what with my heart still beating fast from earlier, and the added adrenaline boost of running into someone. Fangs pulled me into the room with him.

Toni sat in her usual spot at the end of Sweet Pea's bed. She lit up, too, when she saw me. " _There_ you are!"

"Sorry, I needed some air," I apologized.

"No harm, no foul, I guess—because Sweet Pea's going to make it," she beamed, triumphantly.

My eyes did widen in genuine shock—only because I hadn't expected the Black Hood to actually keep his word. "He is? They know that for sure?" I asked, shifting my eyes over to Sweet Pea. There was already some color in his face, but that wasn't what I noticed first. What I saw was the absence of the breathing tube and ventilator. The Black Hood was right. He was off life support before I got back to the hospital.

"Yeah, pretty much," Fangs answered, behind me. "It's still a little rocky, of course, but Doctor Masters said he expects him to make a full recovery."

I sat in the chair beside the bed, lowering myself down slowly. It was hard not to be completely shocked. People like the Black Hood don't normally follow through. Usually—on TV—they make you do stuff just to mess with you and then kill you to further get off on all the misery. "D? You okay?" Toni asked, leaning forward to look at my face.

"Yeah," I sat up a little, nodding. "I just...didn't expect this."

"Neither did we. But it's better than it could have been. I told you Sweet Pea was too stubborn to die," she said, proudly.

Through the rest of the night, I didn't sleep. Jughead was sat in the chair in the corner, sleeping comfortably with Cash draped on his front. With no other options, Toni and Fangs slept sitting on the floor against the wall. Shortly before everyone somehow managed to fall asleep, I learned that Betty, Kevin, Veronica, and Archie all went home for the night, seeing as there was no where to stay the night here.

With the others asleep, I sat there alone, listening to the monitor. After a while, I did try to sleep. I rested my left temple atop my folded arms, leaning onto the side of the hospital bed, bent forward because it was more comfortable than bending backward. No true sleep overcame me. It was just a half-conscious state of rest. Fading in and out, I heard the oddest things. I thought the oddest things. In the early hours of the morning, Cash woke me.

The others were still asleep, but Cash had woken up. I sat upright and rubbed my eyes. "Hey, you okay?" I asked her, speaking softly as not to wake anyone else.

She nodded, "Yeah, I just have to go to the bathroom."

"Alright...come on, I'll take you."

I stood up from my chair and held out my hand to her. She took it with her own small one, and I lead the way down the hospital hallway to the women's restroom. Cash went into a stall while I stood at the sinks, gazing at my ungodly appearance. Frazzled hair, purple under-eye, pale skin, puffy cheeks. I looked like I'd spent the night sobbing in a dumpster. Then, in a second, everything shifted. A vibration lit up my pocket.

Almost immediately, my hands started to shake, and I debated on whether or not to actually answer it. First, I pulled the phone out of my pocket to check. I sighed with relief when I saw it was only Penny. "Hey," I answered, holding the phone up to my ear. "What do you want?"

"Good news, DJ! Your old man's getting out of jail," Penny answered.

My eyes rounded upon hearing her statement, "Wait- what? How is that possible?"

"You didn't go into debt with me for nothing. I did what I do best and worked my angles. You're lucky I make allowances for family emergencies—otherwise I'd be tacking on more responsibilities to your list," she said, her tone slightly annoyed toward the end. "Glad to hear he's gonna pull through. Bet that's a relief, huh?"

"Wow, Penny. You sound like you actually care."

She made a small laughing sound, "Well, I try. I'll be in touch."

The line went dead on her end, so I ended mine and slid my phone back into its place in my pocket. Just then, a toilet flush echoed through the practically empty bathroom, and Cash exited her stall. She walked up to the sinks and reached over the counter for the faucet. I stepped over to her, chuckling softly, and hefted up her small form high enough to better reach the water. FP was coming home.

That was something I wasn't expecting. I'd prepared myself emotionally for it to take much longer. But, regardless, I was happy he would finally be coming back to the trailer. What I wasn't happy about, was that FP wasn't going to like what he found when did.


	17. 17: Don't Blame Me

It was surprising, just how fast it all turned around. Sweet Pea was on the mend. FP was getting out of jail. Betty and Jughead had made amends enough to get back together. Things were in a definite upward climb, but it made me wonder for how long and at what price. It was all I could think about—that night at that run down shack. I'd thrown the gun in the river. There was no way I was giving it back to the Black Hood, or leaving it out for someone else to find.

I sat slightly reclined in my chair at Sweet Pea's bedside, positioned to see the mounted TV in the far corner of the small room. Toni had to work at the Wyrm and Fangs was getting breakfast with Cash, so I was left alone to watch _Desperate Housewives_ reruns. Though he was practically cured, and recovering faster by the second, Sweet Pea hadn't woken up yet. It had only been a handful of hours since he received whatever antidote the Black Hood gave him.

So I couldn't really say I was surprised. But I did still worry. Every second he wasn't awake was another second I feared he would get worse. That the antidote wasn't really enough, that he would get sick again and, this time, not make it quite so long. It was just reaching one o'clock when I got a phone call from Penny. "Hey, DJ," she greeted, all too cheery on the other end. "I need you at the office."

I was about to protest when Fangs and Cash walked into the room. It gave me the reassurance I needed—that I wouldn't be leaving Sweet Pea alone. "Fine. I'll be there in five minutes," I spoke into the phone, before ending my side of the call. I stuffed my phone back into my pocket as I stood, turning to face Fangs. Cash ran to jump in the corner chair, but Fangs stayed by me—presumably because he noticed my posture.

"What's up?" he asked, confirming my assumption.

"I need to run out for a bit," I answered.

He nodded, "No worries, go ahead. I'll hold down the fort."

"Thanks, Fangs," I smiled a little.

My face muscles weren't caught up with the recent events, so they were unaware I was able to actually smile now. The emotions from this whole ordeal hadn't quite worn off yet. Fangs seemed to get it, even though it wasn't much to go on, and he gave my shoulder a squeeze.

* * *

When I walked into Penny's 'office', I was surprised to see she wasn't alone. The guy with the accent from the Greendale warehouse was standing beside her desk. Penny was reclined back in her chair to be able to look up while he spoke, him half bent with a hushed tone, and both of them looked up at me as I passed through the hanging beads. "Well, well, well," the guy with the accent regarded me, standing upright. "Haven't seen _you_ in a while."

"Good. Why am I here, Penny?" I asked, shifting my eyes to Penny's form as I stepped up in front of the desk.

Penny righted herself in her office chair, pasting on her usual closed-mouth smile, "First things first—how's the boyfriend?"

"Recovering," I all but rolled my eyes.

"Great! Now, on to business. You're here because Caleb needs a road trip buddy," Penny replied, all too pleased—knowing full well I wouldn't be happy about this. "You're going with him back to Greendale to deliver the load, then you're going to bring a package back with you. Sounds simple enough, right?"

This time I did roll my eyes, "Let's get this over with."

Apparently, the guy with the accent's name was Caleb. You learn something new everyday. He shot Penny an unreadable look before leading the way out of the tattoo parlor. We were going to be taking my truck, so that I could drop him off and come home. The load was the usual—a large, unmarked crate.

I bent to pick up one side, and Caleb chastely shooed me back, to which I wrinkled my nose and narrowed my eyes. I stepped back and let him handle it, but I glared at him sideways for a moment. He noticed when he got the crate in the truck, and he tossed a glance over his shoulder. "What, you think I'm going to let a pregnant teen do the heavy lifting?" he questioned, rhetorically. "I may be I'm a drug runner, but I've still got morals."

"Yeah...right."

Sighing, I went to the driver's side and climbed in behind the wheel, pulling the door closed behind me. I turned the key in the ignition as Caleb was shutting up the back. He walked around the side and slid into the passenger seat, somewhat slamming the door, and I pulled out of the alley beside the parlor. "You got any ink?" Caleb asked, as if seeing the front of the parlor inspired him to ask.

"My Serpent tattoo and a flower on my wrist," I answered, stoically.

He raised an eyebrow, "A _flower_?"

"It's a sweet pea—my boyfriend's nickname."

"Wait...oh, now I got it. You're the one who's dating that tall kid with the neck tattoo," he realized aloud, smiling a little as he snapped his fingers in epiphany. I glanced at him oddly, and I noticed he'd propped his feet up on the dash. With a groan, I leaned over—keeping my eyes on the road—and gave his boots a hard shove. Probably harder than what was needed.

His feet flew off the dash and he sat up in his seat. He held up his hands in surrender, "Hey, take it easy there, will you?"

"This is my father's truck, moron. Keep your dirty shoes on the floor," I snapped, looking away from the road to shoot him daggers sporadically.

"Alright, alright...sheesh."

The next stupid thing he could think to do was start messing with the radio. It was first turned on to a station I could handle—some pop mix from the two-thousands. So I didn't protest. I turned onto the bridge for Greendale when he thought it a good idea to change it. He poked the buttons, turned the dials, causing the radio to turn into nothing but loud static.

"Oh my- _okay_! Hands off," I shouted, smacking his hands away from the radio.

Once he'd retreated to his seat, I reached up and turned the radio off. "I knew you were a pain but, honestly, this was not what I was expecting," Caleb commented, with a somewhat mortified expression, shrunk back toward his door.

"Sweet Pea nearly died last night, so I'm a little on edge," I glanced at him. "Don't push it, London."

He snorted, "Please, love, I'm from Birmingham."

"You're still a royal pain."

"Good one. So what happened to Sweet Pea last night?"

"You just don't stop, do you?" I mumbled, under my breath. I readjusted my grip on the steering wheel, checking the mirrors. Then I leaned back into my seat. "There's some kind of poison going around. You hear about the Black Hood across the river?"

"Yeah, I heard some stuff. They think he killed that teacher. Funny thing is—that's a block from my sister's house."

"Does she sin as much as you?"

He chuckled once and shook his head, "Not quite."

"So, tell me—how does a guy like you get into the drug business? Where you're at, can't really be by chance."

I glanced across the cab sporadically. Caleb made a gesture, tilting his head momentarily and readjusting his position, indicating I was right. "Well, yes and no. You stumble onto the _street drugs_ and then you get approached by someone higher up," he explained. "They sort of...draft you. You don't get to choose."

"They forced you to deal drugs?" I raised an eyebrow.

But I wasn't as unconvinced as I seemed. After all, I was being forced to do what I was doing. It wouldn't be that far fetched to think they were doing the same things in Greendale to people down on their luck. Taking advantage of tragedy and desperate times. "They've got my sister under watch. They killed my friend Riley to prove they meant business," he replied, almost emotionless. Almost. He glanced over at me. "What's it for you?"

"My father owes Penny some kind of debt. I don't know why. But it was either me repaying it or my brother—I chose me," I answered, with an exhale.

Caleb nodded slowly, an unreadable expression on his face, "Got it pretty easy there in Riverdale, don't you?"

"Well, my family members are all in a gang, my boyfriend almost died from being poisoned, my dad went to prison for helping cover up the murder of my best friend, I'm raising my kid sister and expecting a child of my own in the next few months...I don't have a gun aimed at someone I love but this is definitely not 'easy'," I sent a pointed look in his direction, but he ignored it.

Finally, we arrived at the Greendale warehouse. I pulled into the lot and cut the engine. Caleb pushed open his door with a sigh. But, before he could slip out, I grabbed his jacket sleeve. "Wait," I said, and he turned to look at me with a bewildered expression. "If you could get out, and your sister would be safe...would you?"

He smirked, "Got something cooked up, do you?"

"Like I would tell _you_. This is hypothetical."

"Alright...well, _hypothetically_ , yes. I would."

His eyes flickered down toward my hand in a gesture, and I let go of his jacket. The whole trip there had me rethinking how I looked at these people. How many others were forced into this business? Probably too many. But, if I could at least help one, maybe it would make a difference? I needed to take down Penny to start—though, I didn't trust Caleb quite yet. He wouldn't be privy to anything until I was sure he wouldn't back stab me.

Who knows, I could trust him and he still might. Caleb unloaded the crate as I slid out of the driver's side. It was weird doing all this in broad daylight. I walked to the back of the truck as Caleb was carrying the crate to the building, and I pulled my phone from my pocket. I took a picture of the street address and the warehouse. These little snippets would probably be good things to be collecting. If he was actually a good guy, I would edit Caleb out of the photo later.

I slid my phone back into my jacket pocket. The device was almost all the way in when my phone vibrated with a text message. It was from Fangs, holding only two words—the only two words needed to make my heart race. _He's awake_. "You alright, love? You look like you've seen a ghost," Caleb's voice brought my eyes up from my phone.

"Yeah, I just need to get home," I waved it away.

He shrugged, "Alright then. Here's Penny's 'package'. Safe travels."

Caleb held up a medium sized cardboard box, and I took it—no matter how odd it was. There were a million things that could be inside, but I elected to ignore the urge to wonder, and instead climbed back into the truck. All the while planning the destruction of Penny Peabody in my head.

* * *

I speed-walked through the hospital doors and down the hallway to the room. Having dropped off Penny's package before coming here, it'd been almost two hours since Fangs sent me that text. It irked me. But there wasn't much I could do about it. Finally, I reached his room. Toni sat up on the end of the bed and Fangs sat in my usual chair beside it. Toni was the first to notice me walking in. She smirked, "Hey, look who's here, Sweet Pea."

That comment drew both Sweet Pea's and Fangs' attention to me. Fangs quickly scurried out of the chair and toward the end of the bed as I approached. Sweet Pea looked up at me with a goofball smile, but otherwise tired features, and he reached out for me. I took his hand between both of mine and sat on the side of the bed, holding his hand close to my chest. "How are you feeling?" I asked, gently.

"Like I got hit by a truck," he answered, his voice an odd sound of gravel.

"Doctor Masters said he's supposed to refrain from talking as much as possible while his throat and lungs heal up," Toni said, the words aimed at me. I glanced back at her as she spoke. "I told him it would take an act from God to make this idiot shut up."

I couldn't help smiling at Toni's comment. As I turned back to Sweet Pea, he rolled his eyes at her. "Talk it up, Topaz. I'm gonna be out of this bed and ready to retaliate soon enough," he warned, serious but playful.

"Sweet Pea, it's Doctor's orders," I reminded.

Not a second after saying those words, I leaned forward, and he caught on before I reached him—pushing up a little off his pillows, lips parted as they met mine. I could hear the quiet sounds of shoes scuffling on the tiles. But I didn't pay attention to them. It was a deep, open-mouthed kiss that pushed any and all oxygen from my lungs. His hand slipped from mine and fell to my waist, where his fingers gripped at the denim covering my hip.

My fingers slid through his black hair. They curled around a few locks to ground myself and the other hand rested against the skin of his face. Our lips parted mid-kiss for a moment to breathe in fresh air, before melding together again. "I love you so much," he breathed a whisper, after we parted a second time, his forehead falling against mine.

"I love you, too," I replied, breathlessly.

His hand moved up from my hip to the swell of my stomach, thumb brushing over the center, and he sighed contently. No words could quite describe what was being said in silence. And I'll never forget that moment. The moment I finally felt my heart start to beat again. I leaned back a few inches to see his face, and his eyes fluttered open to meet mine, a soft smile caressing his lips.

"Are there tissues in here?"

Toni's voice caused my eyebrows to knit lightly, the confusion and odd timing causing me to chuckle. Sweet Pea wore a humorous _what for?_ expression as he looked over my shoulder. "I'm sorry- I'm really sorry, guys," Toni said, her voice followed by the scratching sound of pulling a tissue from a tissue box. "This is like watching one of those romance movies—you all _know_ I cry at those."

"Once again, ruining the mood," Fangs chided her.

I dropped my forehead onto the front of Sweet Pea's shoulders, trying not to laugh due to my embarrassment. Sweet Pea's rumbling chuckle vibrated my body. His arms slid around my torso and tucked his face into the crook of my neck—but I could feel him still smiling. "Despite popular belief, I don't set out to ruin moods, okay?" Toni defended, chuckling a little at herself.

Fangs replied, "Just own it, Topaz. Toni 'ruins moods' Topaz. We're getting that on a t-shirt."

Toni scoffed, followed by a hollow thwack, letting me know she hit him. This was what I needed. I needed that cheesy smile, witty banter energy from the good times. It was like I could feel it inflating my soul, sunken from this emotional roller coaster. "Hey, if he's getting the baby a Serpent jacket, might as well get you a t-shirt," I commented, moving around to sit with my back against Sweet Pea's chest.

His arms remained around my middle, his face removed from my neck only long enough for me to get situated. It seemed to be a comfortable position—it had to be, given how reluctant he was to give it up. I propped my legs up on the bed and exhaled, loosely gripping Sweet Pea's arms where they crossed my chest. " _Of course_ Little Pea's getting a jacket," Fangs said. "Might even throw in some temporary snake tattoos."

Sweet Pea and I both said, almost in unison, "No."

"Buzz kills," Fangs mumbled.

"Everything else aside—FP would kill you if he found out you tattooed his grandchild," I told him. "Temporary or not. You'd be a dead man."

"Yeah, almost as dead as I'm gonna be when he gets out of jail," Sweet Pea added.

I scoffed, tilting my head back to see him, "Why would FP want you dead?"

"I got his daughter pregnant and then put her through one emotional disaster after another."

He said the words like it was obvious. But there was a certain look in his eye that read guilt. And I felt bad for it, because it wasn't as much of something to blame himself for as he thought. "Sweets, things happen. We don't exactly live a normal teenage life, do we? You can't blame yourself for everything that goes wrong," I said, seriously but gently. "He'll come around. I know he will."

"When's he getting out?" Toni asked me.

Her comment caused both Fangs and Sweet Pea to stare at me questioningly, putting me on the spot. "He's being released tomorrow morning," I answered. "I'm assuming Jughead texted you?" It seemed to click a little ways through my first sentence that it wasn't the right time to mention it, but she slowly nodded.

"Wait—FP's getting out?" Fangs asked, in utter surprise.

Sweet Pea added, "When did that happen?"

"Early this morning. I got the call from his lawyer, saying he was getting out. I don't know—the prison was overcrowded and Cheryl's testimony pushed the Judge to release him," I lied through my teeth at that last part. Actually, for most of that whole thing. But it was for the best to keep Penny out of this for now.

I'll come clean about it all to them—just not right now. It was too good a moment to ruin it with such a heavy truth. Especially when I wasn't prepared for such an event. To change the topic, I pressed my right index finger to Sweet Pea's lips, causing his eyes to flicker down. "Stop talking," I reminded. Our faces inches apart, he swallowed hard.

Fangs snorted, "All you had to do to keep him quiet was seduce him."

"Don't make me come over there, Fogarty," I threatened, only half serious.

"Okay, why don't we give these love birds a few minutes to catch up, hm?" Toni suggested—not really a suggestion—as she gripped Fangs' jacket and yanked. Fangs got up with a mixture of heavy sighs, and the two bickered as she shooed him out of the room and into the hall. It was like being friends with a mother and her two children, both of which were almost three times her size.

I moved my eyes from the door where they'd disappeared back to Sweet Pea, and he removed my finger from his mouth with a quick tug of my wrist, clearing the way as his lips came crashing into mine.


	18. 18: You Were Never Gone

Jughead, Betty, and I stood just outside the immensely tall prison fence. It was a cold morning, still a bit foggy out, so I kept my jacket zipped and my arms tight across my chest to ward off the weather. A slight chill still tore through the fabric. It was painful—waiting. Then there he was. A prison guard was escorting him toward us, to the door in the fence. Seeing FP under these circumstances, knowing he was coming home for good, pushed a lump into my throat.

I tried not to show it, but my eyes were a glossy stage of becoming misty. It was a good walk from the prison to the fence. But, once he was there, a buzz indicated it was unlocked. FP was smiling brightly, a light that reached his eyes. He pulled open the door and stepped through—right into Jughead's arms. Jughead was the closest, followed by Betty. I stepped back a shuffle when they hugged to allow for more space.

"Hey, dad," Jughead smiled, as they pulled apart.

"Hey, son," FP returned the greeting, overjoyed.

He and Betty shared a short nod of a gesture. "It's good to see you, Mr. Jones," she smiled politely.

"It's good to see you, too, Betty," FP replied. Then, he turned to me. And he stopped for a moment, his shoulders dropping as he exhaled, looking me over. "Diana... _look_ at you. You look like your mom when she was pregnant with you."

I couldn't hold myself back much after that comment. My chest was burning, old emotions bubbling up. Tears streamed my face as I hurried forward, throwing my arms around his neck tightly. His arms were instantly around me. He chuckled a little, "Why are you crying, Diana?"

"I missed you so much, dad," I mumbled out the words through my tears.

His hand moved to the back of my head, gently stroking my hair, "I missed you, too, kid."

I'd wanted to hug him for a long time. When things got bad, or I needed advice, I always turned to FP. I just needed to see him or be near him to feel better. Probably from constantly being apart. But, regardless, it worked every time. When I was holding on a little longer than anticipated, FP tightened his grip momentarily in a gesture. "Hey, I'm here to stay. Okay? I'm not going anywhere," he reassured me, his voice quiet—meant only for me.

"I know," I whispered my reply. Then, stepping back, I sniffled and added, "Things have been kind of hard lately. It's just really good to have you back."

"Well, you don't have to worry about that anymore—either of you," FP said, as he slung his arm around Jughead's shoulders, then the other around mine.

Jughead was smiling, every feature on his face lit up. His eyes moved over to meet mine and they spoke a thousand words. It was a look that meant we were a family. Finally, a complete family. Betty lead the way toward the car, where Alice leaned her butt back into the hood as she watched us. FP, just realizing she was there, greeted her uncertainly, "Alice."

"Is it true what they say about men who have just been released from prison, FP?" she asked him.

He paused slightly, "...what do they say?"

"That they're incredibly sexually frustrated."

She pushed off the hood after giving that answer, and started around the front for the driver's side. "Mom," Betty gaped, in a slightly weirded-out fashion. But I only smirked. I had to admit that was good, and totally unexpected—which only made it that much better. Mama Cooper still had game. I could respect that. Betty, Jughead, and I crammed ourselves into the backseat while the two adults sat in the front.

Our first stop was a quick visit to the hospital. We were not only dropping me off there, but Fangs was watching Cash, and she would be incredibly excited to see FP again. Alice pulled into a parking space at the front entrance and cut the engine. FP climbed out of the front as Jughead and I were getting out of the back. "We'll just be a few minutes," FP said, leaning down to see Alice through the open passenger door.

But Alice was unclipping her seat belt, pushing her door open. "What are you talking about? I'm coming with you."

Jughead and I shared a look over the top of the car—one that said we agreed it wasn't a good idea. But none of us were willing to push her. She was on the war path that morning. Marching up to the hospital doors like she was on a mission sent from God himself. I sighed and pushed past her as she held open the door, taking charge to lead the way to Sweet Pea's room.

Cash was there with Fangs—so, unfortunately, it was a necessary evil. Betty tagged along, considering she would have been the only one sitting out there in the car. So I lead the whole group in through the open hospital room door, knocking gently on the wood. Sweet Pea's head turned instantly, eyes hopeful. His lips curved up into a slanted smile when he saw it was me. But then the others started walking in behind me.

I smiled apologetically, "They're just here so FP can see Cash."

"FP! YOU'RE HERE!"

Cash bolted from her chair as soon as FP was through the doorway. FP's face lit up as he bent, squatting to heft her up when she slammed into his front. I stepped over next to the bed to give more space for their reunion. Cash was clinging to him like a sloth to a branch. "Hey, munchkin," FP greeted her. "You missed me, did you?"

She pulled back from her bone crushing hug to see his face, eyes wide, "Of course I did! YOU'VE BEEN GONE FOR FOREVER!"

I snickered, seeing as she was shouting in his face. He took it in stride, with grace, as he chuckled at her response. A grip on my wrist pulled my attention down and to the left, right where Sweet Pea was trying to get it. He raised an eyebrow up at me, talking quietly—almost whispering—in his still rasped voice, "Why are the others here?"

"Carpool," I answered, simply.

He wore anger and annoyance equally well. Thankfully he just seemed annoyed. If he was angered, we would have problems. I looked back up when FP stepped over toward us, holding cash against his left side. "How you holding up in here?" he asked, jutting his chin toward Sweet Pea.

"He's not supposed to talk, so his throat and lungs can heal," I quickly explained to FP. "But he's getting better."

FP nodded, "Good, good...you'll need to be in perfect health when that baby gets here."

"Dad," I titled my head, mildly scolding him.

But the damage had been done. Alice perked up, turning to us from where she was snooping, scanning the room. "A baby?" she questioned, obviously confused. "What baby?" I'd known for a while that in all our conversations, she'd never noticed. I guess I was good at hiding it from at least someone. FP looked regretful, apologetically glancing at me.

Sighing, I sat on the edge of the hospital bed, beside Sweet Pea. He maneuvered his hand to move mine into my lap, locking our fingers, and holding on for silent support. "I'm pregnant, Alice," I answered her, after a short beat of silence.

She stared at me for a moment. Then, still staring intensely, she spoke up, "I _knew_ it. I knew there was no way you were just getting fat and starting to care about your appearance. You were trying to hide a bump, weren't you? I knew it. When are you due?"

"In June," I replied, a little surprised by her reaction.

"I'm assuming this hoodlum is the father?" she asked, rhetorically, tipping her head in a gesture toward Sweet Pea. It always amazed me how many new names she could come up with to call people she didn't like. People that were 'riffraff'. The undesirables. It wasn't necessarily a new term, just one she hadn't used yet—at least, not around me.

Unaffected by her words in the slightest, I answered, "Correct."

Alice looked to FP, "And you're perfectly okay with this?"

"No, but it happened and there's no way to change that. She's my daughter—I'm not gonna send her to the wolves. Not everyone can be as heartless as you, Alice," FP said, looking only at Alice. His undertones and stern gaze highlighted his words. My jaw nearly fell open.

I'd confided in FP months ago—long before his arrest—about Polly and her situation, how horrible it was. He had agreed with me in my assumption that it was for appearances more than Polly's well being. None of it was for Polly—it was for the Cooper family, for their social standing. All of that was blown out of the water when Alice told everyone about the pregnancy on TV, after Polly escaped that dungeonistic hellhole.

With a quick sweep of my eyes, I could see everyone else in the room was just as shocked as I was that FP would actually say such a thing. But FP was always good at comebacks when it came to Alice Cooper. He always knew just how to stop her ridiculous and insensitive comments. "Mom, come on," Betty took her mother's arm, stepping up beside her. "Let's go wait in the car."

Alice's eyes were an unreadable shade, rounded yet narrowed at the same time. Shocked and offended—and completely unsure which one was stronger. But she went with Betty, however hesitantly. Jughead turned to face FP with an expression of disapproval, "Dad...that was-"

" _Awesome_ ," Sweet Pea interrupted, with an airy exhale of surprise, finishing the sentence with his two cents.

"I'm not gonna let her—or anyone else—push you guys around like that," FP explained, setting Cash on the ground. "We've been through enough, haven't we?"

I nodded a little, though I wasn't sure just how I felt about his way of handling things, "Thank you, dad."

FP sighed and stepped over to me, moving his hand to the back of my head before leaning down. He pressed a kiss to the top of my head and then did the same with Cash. "You behave now, you hear me? I don't want to hear you were being unruly from your sister," he told Cash, with a lighthearted tone.

Cash gave him a look with a loud scoff, "I'm always good!"

She marched over to the chair in the corner and hopped up onto the cushion, not looking at FP once. Fangs made a humming sound. "Uh-oh, she's offended," he commented, a bit humorously. "Now you've done it." FP sighed again—heavily this time—and started moving toward the door, where Jughead was waiting.

"I'm starting to think I just have that effect on women," FP nodded once, folding in his lips.

He walked out of the room and Jughead flashed me a look behind his back—a look that said he was stressed out by FP's previous words and actions. That he was sure it would keep happening. And that added a further stress. It was the usual look of Jughead when FP did something he didn't agree with, something that embarrassed him. I could only give him my best look of _I'm sorry_ before he, too, disappeared into the hallway.

* * *

It was two days after Sweet Pea woke up that he was released and cleared to go home. He wasn't completely healed, but there wasn't more the hospital could do for him, and they weren't interested in keeping him any longer than they had to. So I'd driven him home in the truck and helped him into bed. Intent on making sure he kept getting better. If a hospital wouldn't do it, I would. Though, Sweet Pea insisted he was fine. I ignored him.

"Pea, listen to you! You sound like you're talking with gravel in your mouth," I pointed out, crossing my arms over my chest.

He sighed, and whined, " _Diana_."

"Don't 'Diana' me. You're not going out with the boys to smoke and drink and ruin any recovery you've just had. So you might as well make yourself comfortable."

Sweet Pea sat on the end of the bed, with narrowed eyes aimed at me where I stood near the door. There was a moment of silence. A moment of him accepting his defeat, getting over himself enough to resign. Then, finally, he spoke up, "You're sexy when you tell me what to do."

"Dirty socks are sexy, according to you," I countered, unable to stop the corner of my lips from rising.

"If they're on you," he shrugged, innocently.

Tossing my eyes to the heavens, I scoffed and walked across the short space to the bed. "You're crazy. You know that, right?" I commented. When I reached him, he sat back and a bit more upright. With my hands on his shoulders, I climbed onto his lap—a knee on either side—and his hands slid up my thighs to my hips. My hands moved from his shoulders, up his neck, and rested on his face with my thumbs brushing his cheekbones.

He smiled cheekily up at me, "Crazy about you."

"What is this, bad pickup line day?"

I laughed, shaking my head at him. It wasn't meant to be replied to. Because, after I spoke, I closed the space between us—pressing my lips to his. Kisses were rarely light, or small, with Sweet Pea. There was no such thing. He didn't know how. They were always open-mouthed, full of passion and hunger, and they always made me shiver. This one wasn't as long as I'd hoped. Just as it was getting good, there was a knock at the front door.

Pulling away from him only caused him to move his lips to my neck, my fingers gripping his hair for support. "Who is it?" I shouted, daring myself to sound composed. It was a moment before I heard anything. In that moment, I let my eyes closed, relishing the warmth his kisses brought to my collar bone.

"Diana? It's Betty. I was hoping I could talk to you...if you have a minute."

It was an annoyance to have any sort of interruption, but especially to have one from Betty. She and Jughead made up. But she still ranked very low on my totem pole after the stunt she pulled having Archie breakup with Jughead for her. That was just uncalled for. Groaning in my annoyance, I shouted in reply, "Just a minute!"

Sweet Pea kissed back up my neck, to my jawline, and returned to my lips—devouring them with his in a deep and lustful kiss. It was incredibly hard to make myself pull away. But I did, sitting back on his lap, breathless. "Pea..." I gave him an apologetic look. "Just ten minutes, okay?"

"You've got five."

Once more sloppy kiss was given before I climbed off, reacquainting with land as I hurried to the front door of the trailer. Mentally, I tried to prepare myself for whatever conversation Betty thought she needed to have with me. It wouldn't be prudent to be verbally flipping her off the whole time, would it? No. So I tried to reason with myself to just give her these five minutes. Then, when she was gone, I could go back to being annoyed with her.

I reached the door, pulling it open to reveal a jovial looking Betty Cooper. "Hi," she greeted. "Hope I'm not interrupting anything."

"Nope. Come in," shaking my head, I stepped back, allowing her entrance.

Betty stepped inside and I closed the door behind her. She was slow to move toward the kitchen table. I stepped around her and shuffled across the kitchen tiles to the counter—more specifically, to the coffee pot. "Coffee?" I offered.

"Um, sure, thanks."

"So...what brings you here?" I questioned, pouring steaming liquid into a mug.

From behind me, I could hear her taking in a deep breath. "Well, I wanted to talk to you about Jughead," she began. My eyebrows rose as I turned around with her mug. I sat in the chair across from her, sliding her mug along the table toward her as she continued, quickly elaborating, "I've been walking the razor's edge since he joined the Serpents. I thought that FP coming home would mean that he would be there to look out for Jug."

"But he's retiring," I nodded a little, seeing her line of thought.

She nodded in return, "So, I want to look out for him myself."

"Um...excuse me? Are you saying what I think you're saying?" I questioned her, my eyebrows lowered on my forehead in utter shock and mild disapproval.

Betty was hesitant to keep speaking. But she carried on, mustering it up within her—even against the look on my face. "Yes, Diana. I want to be apart of his world. I would be more...Serpent _adjacent_ ," she answered.

"I don't think you know what you're asking for, Betty. This isn't a joke," I shook my head, looking at her seriously to match my tone of voice. "The male Serpent initiation is based off having to prove your strength—mentally and physically. For the women? It's purely sexual. The Serpent dance is required for us ladies to join—you know what that is? A strip show, in front of all the Serpents. A bunch of drunk, middle-aged, crusty bikers approve your body and you're in."

She leaned back a little in her chair, pulling the mug up to her lips then as her eyes averted from me. It was obvious that wasn't what she was expecting. No one ever does. The Serpent dance was disgusting and a crude way to judge women for entry. A woman's worth shouldn't be judged by her body. But this is Riverdale—you couldn't expect anything better. "So...I would have to do that?" Betty asked, rhetorically.

I nodded slowly, "Yep."

"Did you do it? Weren't you, like, fourteen?"

"Yeah, but I didn't look my age—and I was a good dancer. The only Serpents that cared were my dad and FP," I answered, with a shrug. "Either way, it wasn't that hard for me because I was in a bad enough place that I was willing to put myself through that. Are _you_ , Betty?"

Betty exhaled, dropping her shoulders. "I think I am."


	19. 19: Faded

Sweet Pea's arm draped around my shoulders, vaguely leaning on me, as we walked into the Wyrm. Today was a day I'd never really envisioned being reality—FP's retirement. To think he wouldn't be there anytime I came to the Wyrm, or wearing a Serpent jacket, was a little bittersweet. Toni whistled from behind the bar, "Hey, you guys finally made it."

"What do you mean _finally_? The party just started, Topaz," Sweet Pea commented, as we moved to the bar.

I pulled myself up onto a bar stool and leaned my forearms onto the counter top. "Ignore him—he's being extra narcissistic today," I pretended to whisper, speaking through the left side of my lips, as I made a face. Toni snickered, wiping out a glass. Sweet Pea had barely noticed my comment, busied when a couple of the other Serpents came to greet him. It was to be expected—after all, he'd just spent some time in the hospital.

Drama was something everyone in hear ate up like it was their last meal. Toni leaned her palms into the counter top, leaning in an inch closer to me. "Can I get you a drink? Shirley Temple, maybe?" she offered, with a small smirk at her suggestion.

My lips corkscrewed, "Hit me, bartender."

"Comin' right up."

Toni chuckled as she moved to get a glass and start making my drink. I sat back on my stool and took a quick glance at the rest of the bar. Something on the move caught my eye, across the building and walking this way—Jughead. He was wandering across the building a bit aimlessly, but his eyes were sharp wherever they looked. "You okay, Jug?" I asked, when he got close enough.

"Yeah, just getting the lay of the land," Jughead stopped by my stool, dropping his shoulders in an exhale. He glanced around a final time before settling his eyes on me. "What are you up to—at the _bar_?"

"You know, there are drinks that can be made without alcohol," I smirked, tilting my head.

He gave me a look, before giving in and chuckling lightly. Then, in a second, his eyes flickered up above my shoulder and his face changed. It was unreadable, the change. I turned on my stool to see what he was looking at and I nearly fell right off. Of all the people I expected to be walking into the Whyte Wyrm, Alice Cooper wasn't even on the list. But, there she was, walking in with Betty. Wearing a black mesh top, leather mini skirt, and matching jacket no less.

Betty wore a pastel pink skirt and sky blue button up top—nothing too out of the ordinary. But I knew exactly what she was going to do, and it made my stomach turn. I'd tried my hardest to tell her not to go through with it, to convince her it wasn't worth whatever she thought she could get out of it. It was to no avail—obviously. Alice regarded me with a jut of her chin, slowing to a stop a foot from my stool. "Diana," she greeted.

"Alice," I returned the nod-like gesture. "Nice outfit."

"Thanks. I couldn't get this one to dress appropriately for the occasion, though."

Alice shoved her thumb in Betty's direction, causing Betty to sigh. She asked me what I was drinking, when Toni set down my Shirley Temple on the bar in front of me. I told her what it was and she only wrinkled her nose. Then, glancing down at my stomach briefly, she made a facial expression. An expression that said she just remembered I was pregnant. That it made sense why I wasn't drinking something stronger.

She stepped up to the bar to order a drink—tequila—and I turned the other way on my stool, my eyes scanning the various Serpent jackets in the crowd throughout the building. Sweet Pea had seemingly disappeared. I hadn't even noticed when he'd slipped away. It was probably for the best. A confrontation with Alice was not what we needed tonight. I grabbed my glass and slid off my stool, then started into the crowd.

Betty was all over Jughead and all I could think about was what was going to happen later, so it was a good idea to scurry off to somewhere less tainted. I wandered into the masses and sipped my drink, sliding past groups, hearing pieces of conversations. Most people I passed made some kind of gesture saying they noticed me, saying hi. And I'd smile and make a gesture back. I made it to the pool tables after a while of wading.

Fangs was waiting to take his turn, cue stick in hand, at the end of one of the tables. He motioned for me to come over, so I did. I smirked, "Lost your bread money yet?" The balls on the table clattered, causing me to glance down at them rolling across the table, as I came to stand at the corner of the pool table.

" _Please_. I've won three rounds already," Fangs replied, smugly. He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a thin wad of cash, holding it up so I could see it. "Guess who's making the final payment on a tiny Serpent jacket?"

"Fangs, seriously—how much is that thing costing you?" I questioned, feeling incredibly guilty.

"It's worth every dime," he stressed, leaning toward me as he made a face.

He folded the cash back into his pocket, just as it was his turn. Though it wasn't what I asked, I took that as my answer—given he obviously wasn't going to say anything else. Fangs moved around the table to find the best shot and I walked back into the crowd, journeying toward the back wall of the bar. That's when it happened. It was completely unexpected and incredibly disruptive. Suddenly, Sweet Pea's back hit the wall, someone holding him there by his shirt folds.

What surprised me the most was not the event of Sweet Pea getting slammed into a wall. Honestly, it was bound to happen. He was a master at making literally everyone around him want to punch him in the face. What surprised me was the person doing the shoving. It was FP. I could tell just by his checkered shirt and side profile. Immediately, I put my drink on a nearby table and shoved through the almost silenced crowd.

FP was all but growling at Sweet Pea with his words when I finally got to them. I'd never seen him so angry. "You let my daughter get involved with Penny Peabody?" FP spat at Sweet Pea, pulling back just slightly and slamming him into the wall again, punctuating his next words. " _My_ daughter?!"

He pulled Sweet Pea off the wall and gave him a hard shove away. Sweet Pea stumbled, but caught himself, and looked at FP in pure and utter confusion. That was when I stepped up a foot behind FP, just getting to the scene. "I don't know what you're talking about!" Sweet Pea defended, shouting right back at FP.

Sweet Pea's eyes moved to my face, just noticing I was there. And something filled them that sunk my heart all the way to the floor. Shock, fear, disappointment, confusion. FP turned and saw me standing there, practically agape in my own shock of the situation. _His_ eyes were full of rage, also holding disappointment when they landed on me. "It wasn't him, dad," I admitted, quietly, swallowing hard on my pride.

As if it couldn't get any worse—his face dropped. So many eyes were on us, but I couldn't look anywhere else. My chest was burning, my insides feeling hollow, and I struggled to hold it all in with the lump in my throat causing my eyes to burn. FP took a step toward me, features turning angry again, "You made a deal with the Snake Charmer?"

"She was going to drag Jughead into this, dad—so, yeah, I agreed to work it off," I answered, raising my voice in mock anger to hide what I was sure was already visible—my guilt. "What else was I supposed to do?! We're family, we look out for each other-"

"That's why I'm ending this now. Give me your jacket."

My faux anger faded almost instantly, "W-what?"

"Give me your jacket, Diana!" he raised his voice, more forceful.

I startled at the outburst simply from the shaking I was already doing. There was something in his eyes that I recognized. I'd seen it in Ben, when he would get angry and start yelling. His eyes would darken and become glossy. And, for a moment, it was like he was possessed just long enough to emotionally destroy me. Then he would be back to being normal Ben, like it never happened. FP wore that glossed look.

But I knew it had nothing to do with possession. He'd been drinking. It was the hardest thing—not crying right then. Not breaking down in front of everyone like my body craved. Instead, I kept my composure and did as told, taking off my jacket. I held it out to him with a shaking hand and he snatched it from me quickly. "Now get outta here," FP told me. His anger had faded as well, but his sadness was more from shame than anything else.

My eyes moved to Sweet Pea then—begging, pleading for him to support me. To stand up for me. To help in any way at all. But his eyes became downcast the second I'd looked up at him. A sharp pain struck my chest, and I turned to leave. No one else dared to try and stop me—not when FP was on a rampage. I walked through the crowds, and they parted for me as I passed, all the way through. Toni was watching me in shock and sympathy as I walked by the bar to the exit.

My shaking hands pushed the door open, and I let it fall closed behind me to continue walking. I was moving as quickly as possible. Trying to get out as fast as I could before I broke. But I never did. Probably because of what I saw. Cash was sitting in FP's truck, parked just out front. Without thinking a second thought, I marched to the truck and climbed into the driver's seat. "Diana? Where's FP?" Cash asked, confused.

"He's inside. We're going home."

She asked, even more confused, "Why?"

"Because we are, okay? It's my job to take care of you, and I need you to trust me on this. Can you do that, Cash?"

"Yeah," she nodded, though a little hesitant.

I nodded once, then reached up for the folding mirror. FP always left the keys there, no matter how drunk he was. Sure enough, they fell into my lap as soon as I folded down the flap. I picked up the keys and shoved the right one into the ignition, started the truck, and pulled out of the gravel parking lot. I drove straight to the trailer park—more specifically, to FP's trailer. When Cash and I got inside, I gave her the duffel she'd had her things in when we came here.

It was then that it seemed to click in her youthful brain, but she didn't question it when I told her to pack some over-night items. While she did that, I went to Sweet Pea's trailer and packed my own things. All I had there were some clothes, a tooth brush, and some soaps. I threw those in my bag. Then I went back to FP's trailer to check on Cash. "Why are we leaving?" Cash asked, moping as she met me at the door.

Her duffel bag drug on the floor beside her. Sighing, I pushed my hair behind my ears, and I picked up her bag. "It's just for tonight, okay? We need to give the Jones men some space," I explained, as gently as I could manage. "Did you get Butter?"

Cash gasped, her eyes flying wide before bolting to the living room. I whistled for Killer and he came to the door from the bedroom. His leash always hung on the coat rack, so it wasn't hard to hook him up right where I was at. I lead him out to the truck and secured him in the cab, then I moved to put the bags in the bed. Cash came trotting down the concrete steps and she climbed into the passenger seat just as I was finishing up.

I knew it would be hard for Cash, even just for a night. But I didn't want her or Killer anywhere near FP when he got home from the Wyrm. He'd never been violent with me—he would raise his voice and get mean, sure. But never physical. Though, I knew very well just how physical he could get when alcohol was involved. It was the poison that was slowly killing him. Well, his kind heart, that is.

When I got in the driver's seat, Killer was snuggled into Cash's lap and Cash kept her eyes out the window at the trailer, her hand absentmindedly stroking his head. I knew what she was doing. She was trying to make sure she remembered this place. I knew, because I'd done it before—the day Ben took us from the trailer park for good. I tried to ignore it as best I could and drive the truck, but I couldn't stop thinking.

Thinking about it all. Most of all, the way FP looked at me. It mixed so well with how he spoke, so full of anger. It created a perfect cocktail of anxiety and depression that tugged at my ribs and brought back memories of living with Ben. Something I tried so hard to forget. Turns out I really didn't forget anything at all. What I didn't know then, was that I never would.

The events of that night were all too unexpected and painful. But I didn't expect to find such hospitality where I found it. I pulled up along the road, just at the end of the driveway, and shut off the truck. "Stay here a second, I'll be right back," I told Cash, before pushing open my door.

She agreed, though still looking just as glum as when we left the trailer park. I sighed and shut the door to the truck before walking up the driveway to the front entrance of the house. I'd been there a handful of times before. So, it was nothing new to ring the doorbell. Given how late it was, you wouldn't expect anyone to be awake, but I'd texted on the way there. At least, I'd texted one of the occupants.

To my surprise, the man of the house answered the door. "Diana? What are you doing here so late?" Sheriff Keller asked, a bit groggy but otherwise his normal self. He still wore his uniform, presumably from working a late night, either at the station or in his home office.

It was just then that Kevin came barreling down the stairs. He hurried to his father's side. "Um, dad, I told Diana she and her sister could crash in our guest room," he quickly explained. "It's just for tonight—things aren't great at home."

"Oh...alright then. Come on in," Keller said, with a bit of a sigh.

I threw a thumb over my shoulder, "I've gotta grab my bag and my sister."

"I'll help you," Kevin volunteered, squeezing out the door past Sheriff Keller. Kevin walked down the driveway with me a little ways before asking, "So, how bad is it? Like, are you guys in danger-?"

"No, not really. I just don't want there to be that possibility, you know? Cash has been through enough."

He nodded quickly, "Right, right—got it."

Killer lurched up inside the cab and began to growl at the sight of Kevin. "Killer!" Cash scolded him. The burly German Shepherd sat back down almost immediately. Kevin was hesitant to go near the truck, so I gestured toward the bed. "Our bags are back there," I told him.

"Oh, good."

He quickly started walking that way. I opened the driver's side door and leashed Killer. He hopped down onto the sidewalk as Cash climbed down from the passenger side. "Is this all you guys brought?" Kevin asked, a little surprised, as he walked back toward me with the two bags.

"Yeah, we pack light," I nodded a little.

Kevin was still surprised, but gave a light shrug and started for the house. Cash followed after him quickly, and the two began gibbering about something I couldn't quite make out on the way up the driveway. I trailed behind them with Killer, the truck keys in my pocket. If FP wanted the truck back he could come take it. But he wasn't going to be driving home drunk tonight. Jughead would make sure he got home safe.

The Sheriff seemed to have retreated back to his office, as he was nowhere to be seen as Kevin lead the way up the staircase. The guest room was just across the hall from Kevin's. Cash, in particular, was very excited by that piece of information. I let Killer off the leash as soon as we were inside the room, and both he and Cash leapt onto the bed. "Can I talk to you for a second?" I asked, turning to Kevin.

"Uh, yeah, sure," he nodded, and stepped into the hallway.

"I'll be right back, Cash."

Cash poked her head up from beneath Killer, "Okay!"

I stepped into the hall after Kevin and pulled the door closed gently. Kevin loosely folded his arms, leaning into the staircase banister, and looked at me curiously. "What's up?" he asked.

"I really appreciate you doing this. I know we had kind of a falling out at school before I left and...we never really fixed that-"

"Diana, come on. You really think I'd leave you high and dry because of one argument and a misunderstanding?" he asked, with a wide smile like he was trying not to laugh at the humorous insinuation. "No matter what happens between us—you're still my friend. I've got your back. No matter how leather-clad it is."

I chuckled a little at his ending comment, but it made me realize just how naked I'd felt without my Serpent jacket. It was like I was back to square one—back to where I started, hiding my jacket away in a closet the second I got to the North Side. Learning to live without because I'd be dead if I didn't. "Thanks, Kevin," I smiled, and he smiled back.

"No problem, Diana. Goodnight."

"Goodnight."

After saying goodnight to Kevin, I shuffled into the guest room and closed the door. Killer was settling into the end of the bed. Cash lay flopped across the bed on her stomach, her face pushed into the thick blanket. I walked over to the bed and gave her head a nudge. "Cash, time for bed," I said. With a moment of silence, there was no reply. She was asleep. Huffing an airy chuckle, I slid my arms under hers, and I lifted her off the bed.

I carried her limp form around to the other side of the bed, and I carefully laid her down with her head on the pillow. Once I got her snuggled in, I changed into a pair of shorts and a t-shirt, then climbed into bed. It was then that my phone buzzed from where it sat on the nightstand. Out of sheer curiosity—and a bit of hope—I checked the phone. It was a text from Jughead.

 **J: Where are you?**

 **ME: Somewhere safe.**

 **J: That's not a location.**

 **ME: That's the point.**

 **J: Come home, Diana. We can fix this. We'll talk to dad in the morning.**

 **ME: Thanks, Jug. But I'm handling this on my own. Goodnight.**


	20. 20: The Chain

I sniffled hard, swiping my cheek with the back of my right wrist as I tried to get ahold of Sweet Pea again. He wasn't answering my texts or my calls. It wasn't a priority anymore of mine to keep my breakdown hidden. That's why I didn't care that I was crying in the back corner of a hospital waiting room in Greendale, waiting for my name to be called. This appointment had been scheduled for weeks. Sweet Pea knew that—he was there when I scheduled it.

Yet, there I was alone. Was not telling him about my involvement with Penny—the very thing he'd done to me, I might add—really bad enough that he could miss finding out the gender of our baby? Had I really messed up so much more than he had? _I_ should've been the one furious and ignoring _him_. After what I did, what I was _willing_ to do for him, he completely ditches me when I need him the most. There was no doubt in my mind that FP had a hand in this.

But I thought he would've learned from the first time he tried this, or that Sweet Pea would've grown enough of a backbone to oppose him like I had. From the look of it, the Serpents were more important to Sweet Pea than I was. Because he'd rather have them and ignore me, than have me and get a slap on the wrist from FP.

Throwing my phone into the cushioned couch next to my chair, I sat upright and back, scrubbing my hands over my tear-soaked face. This could not be happening. It just couldn't. "Diana," like a God-sent angel, I heard a voice that was immediately recognizable. As I removed my hands from my face, I could see it was Toni, walking quickly to me from the entrance across the room. "I couldn't let you do this alone."

She dropped into the chair next to mine and I collapsed into her. Her arms wrapped around me tightly, as I cried into her shoulder, and her voice was soft as she tried to console me. "I'm so sorry, Diana. This is completely unfair—but I'm here for you, okay?" she said.

I pulled myself back to sit up, to see her face, "Thank you, Toni. Won't this come back on you, though?"

"If FP wants to be a good father and protect you, good on him. But he's just being cruel. Come what may; I can't support that," she shrugged a little, expression sympathetic.

"Have you seen Sweet Pea? Have you talked to him?" I asked, hopeful.

She nodded a little, though her demeanor shifted slightly—changing to pure annoyance, mixed with a little anger. "Oh, I talked to him. Did a little more than talking, too," she answered, with a huff. "To come here, he'd have to swallow his pride. But he'd just end up choking on it. Honestly, I wouldn't want to be around him right now. He's just being a pompous a-"

"Diana Cassidy?"

With my name being called, I glanced up. The nurse was waiting at the door for me. I used the sleeves of my sweater to dry my face and stood up from my chair. Toni stood as well, with an air of determination about her. "I can go with you, if you want," she offered. "If you need to hold someone's hand-"

I nodded quickly, "Yes, please."

She gave a small, closed-mouthed smile and put her arm around me as we started walking toward the nurse, to the left of the waiting area. It was so nerve wracking, even with Toni for support. It just wasn't the same without Sweet Pea. I didn't at all expect it would be. I just wish it wouldn't have been so hard when it didn't have to be. The room was relatively small, with a chair and ultrasound equipment by the back.

It stank of antiseptic but that was typical. I sat in the chair and Dr. Kitter—my OB—moved to the left side, by the ultrasound equipment. Toni sidled up to the other side of the chair. She pulled one of my hands off my lap, holding it in hers and giving me a reassuring smile, and I did my best to smile back—however small and closed mouthed it was. Dr. Kitter started to make small talk, as she readied the equipment.

"How are you doing today?" she asked, not looking at me.

I exhaled, nodding slowly, "Hanging in there."

"Well, it must help to know you have your partner here to support you," my eyes rounded a little with a small chuckle as they shifted to Toni, who was looking at the back of Dr. Kitter's head with a questioning expression. Dr. Kitter went on, "You wouldn't believe how many appointments we have with women who come in on their own."

Toni shifted her stance, a small smirk quirking her lips up to the left, "I wouldn't _dream_ of letting my girl do this alone."

I gave Toni a look and she only smirked wider, causing me to roll my eyes. It was nice to have her there for support. She added that extra comfort, but never failed to make it lighthearted and make me feel a bit better than I had before. "You're seventeen weeks, correct?" Dr. Kitter asked, rhetorically, turning to me.

"Yes," I nodded.

"Alright. Let's get this started. Pull up your shirt, please."

I folded back my sweater over my stomach, bringing the more rounded swell into the fluorescent light of the room. It was so much more pronounced and noticeable, but I knew it would only get bigger. Dr. Kitter squirted a cool gel onto the highest point of the swell before placing the wand against that spot on top of it. An image was on the small monitor just beside her, and I watched it closely as it morphed and changed with the motion of the wand.

Dr. Kitter slowly adjusted the positioning of the wand, and she pointed to the screen as she spoke—drawing an invisible line around the baby. "There's the fetus," she explained. "It looks like we're in a good position—would you like to know the sex of the baby?"

* * *

Veronica texted me during the appointment and I had to reply when we'd left the hospital, but she proposed I meet up with her and Betty at the mall to go shopping. More specifically, baby supply shopping. Mostly window shopping, hanging out—something to get my mind off of last night. I told her I was up for it, and that I would be bringing Toni along. I drove the truck while Toni rode on her bike behind me all the way to the mall.

We were still in Greendale. Riverdale doesn't have quite the shopping experience as Greendale. There was always a better selection, more things I was interested in. Betty and Veronica were standing by the front of the mall when Toni and I pulled in to two parking spaces a few spots from the front. I cut the engine and stuffed the keys in my pocket, but I dug my cell phone out, along with the ultrasound picture I'd gotten from the appointment.

I put the picture on my knees and used my phone to take a picture of it. Then, I sent that picture to Sweet Pea's number—even though I knew he wouldn't bother to reply. Even if he didn't respond, he would still see it and it would still pain him to know I did it without him. The petty girl inside me was happy knowing that. Every other part of me was just left depressed and angry. Once I'd sent the message, I slid out of the truck and shut the door.

Toni joined my side as I reached the back of the truck, and we walked to Betty and Veronica together. Veronica smiled at me. "Hey, girl," she said, tilting her head. "How did it go?" I slid my hands in the pockets of my denim vest with a light sigh, Toni and I coming to stand just a foot or two from her.

"It was good. We, uh...we found out the gender," I replied, a smile threatening to pull up the corners of my lips at the end.

Betty and Veronica shared a bright, expressional glance, and Veronica gasped, "Oh my gosh! Is it a boy or a girl? _Please_ tell us, Diana!"

I looked at Toni, and she smirked back at me. Turning back to Veronica and Betty, who were practically trembling in anticipation, I exhaled the words, "It's a boy." Veronica squealed in excitement and hugged me with congratulations. Betty only voiced her support. Our relationship wasn't in a place for hugs, so I understood.

As Veronica stepped back, she was smiling wildly. "You know what this means? Gender reveal party! We can have it at the Pembrooke—my mom would be _more_ than happy to host," she gushed. "Fine beverages and snacks, an elaborate guessing game—it'll be amazing! What do you think?"

"Well...I'm not sure I would have a lot of people to invite now, but I suppose it could be fun," I shrugged a little.

"Wonderful!" Veronica clapped her hands together in a gesture of excitement.

"Alright, are we gonna just stand here all afternoon or are we going to put playing hooky to good use?" Toni asked, trying to rally the troops to get the shopping started. Veronica slung her arm through mine and tugged me along, Betty and Toni trailing behind us, as the four of us headed into the mall. On the way through the shops to the little baby boutique in the back corner, I got pulled into a Victoria's Secret store when Veronica got distracted.

She tugged me along with her, right to a mannequin wearing a deep purple ensemble. "This looks _really_ good," she said, her eyes scanning the outfit. She was practically drooling over it. Betty and Toni only took a few steps into the store, just to the first rank, browsing light-heartedly. Toni plucked a black set from the rack after a short moment of looking.

"This is killer," Toni commented. Her fingers overturned the dainty price tag hanging from the strap, and she made a face. "Not for that price."

Betty chuckled at Toni's words as Toni put the set in its place on the rack and moseyed her way back out of the store. Veronica rummaged quickly through the rack in front of us for her size then, when she found it, she let go of my arm to run to the register. "One sec, guys!" she shouted, over her shoulder as she ran across the store. It only took Veronica a few moments to purchase the lingerie set, and then we were back on track.

We made it to the store after a little while longer of walking. As soon as we entered, Veronica picked up a basket from beside the door. I gave her a side-eye and she shrugged. "What? Just in case I see something you want," she smiled knowingly at me.

"Gee. What must it be like having so much money?" Toni asked, rhetorically, as she sauntered past us to a shelf of toddler toys.

Veronica ignored her comment—for the most part—and hooked her arm back in with mine. "What shall we browse first, mama?"

"Oh gosh, please don't call me 'mama'," I exhaled, chuckling a bit. "Um...clothes, maybe?"

"Right this way."

Veronica pulled me to the left, down an aisle, and Betty and Toni absentmindedly followed along a few feet behind. We drifted into the clothing section of the store. I kept my features clean, and fresh, and uplifted as discussions of style began. My fingers sorted through hanging onesies glumly, and with every passing item they slowed. It was hard. Hard not to let it show, hard not to tell everyone how effected by all of this I was.

Breaking down in the middle of a shopping center was not something I wanted to cross off my list of this year's unexpected circumstances. Betty gasped, her mouth agape, as she held up a tiny shirt with a motorcycle on it. "Okay, this is _adorable_ ," she commented.

"Oh my gosh, yes," Veronica agreed, her heels clicking as she moved to get a closer look. "Diana, isn't this just darling?"

I spared a quick glance over my shoulder, smiling closed-mouthed, "Yeah, it's super cute."

They seemed to buy my interest, so I returned to rummaging quietly. Every article of infant clothing I touched made me think of him. It made me think of that fact that he wasn't here. He could be, but he chose not to. He chose not to be there. He chose not to be with me. Old whispers tickled my ears, from deep down inside my head. It was the voice that walked me through my suicide attempt and the days leading to it.

And a little while of the days following. It was everything I'd ever done wrong. Helping Jason to his death, getting Polly locked up in the process, getting involved with Penny, being unbearably rude to people I called my friends, not doing right by Cash, not being enough for Ben, and finally—one of the most hurtful—not being someone Sweet Pea thought was worth staying.

Those things and more swirled around my mind. I tried to push them out—or, at the very least, push them back. I kept my overall demeanor calm and sociable even when my throat started to sting from holding my tears back. Betty and Veronica wandered around the aisle to the other side to see what it had to offer. Toni and I stayed at this rack, skimming through at a rational rate. "You know," Toni spoke suddenly, a moment after the others disappeared. "You're not as solid as you think."

"Mm...I'm not going to pretend I know what that means," I gave her a look, wrinkling my nose.

She smirked a little, "You're completely transparent right now, D."

"I don't know what you're talking about," I replied, shaking my head.

I pulled a cute, baby blue shirt from the rack and eyed the curvy lettering across the front. As Toni spoke in the background, I was too busy zoning out to truly get much of what she was saying. My eyes read and reread the words. _I try to be good but I take after daddy_. It was so stupid. But it was not what my brain needed right then. "Are you kidding me? It's written all over your face," Toni huffed a chuckle. "You are the _worst_ liar—look at you! You look like you're about to cry."

She'd said it so innocently, partially apart of a joke. But it was one hundred percent true. Sometimes I wondered if Toni was some kind of psychic. "That's because I am," I admitted, talking so quietly I might as well have been whispering. I put the stupid shirt back, forcing it in where it was before.

"Diana...you don't have to act like you're okay," Toni shook her head slowly.

"Yeah, I do."

"Why?"

"Because if I don't, I'll never stop," I raised my voice to just above normal level in my exasperation, turning around to face her. The sympathetic, apologetic expression her features held only made me want to break down even more. Barely holding it back, I took in a deep breath before continuing, "I'm not... _strong_. I look like I am but I'm not. Far from it. I feel like I'm a bomb waiting to explode and, when I do, I'll be too destroyed to be put back together."

Toni's head tilted as her eyes softened a shade. She stepped closer to me, putting her hand on my upper arm. "You can't keep doing this to yourself. Acting like a tough girl only gets you so far. You need to start letting it out. It's okay, Diana. You can let go," she spoke softly to me, empathetically.

Looking down, my hands fidgeting with each other in front of me, trying to distract myself. It didn't do much. Part of me wanted to believe her and another knew it was stupid to think so naively. But my body didn't give me much of a choice. Those tears were coming out whether I wanted them to or not. They trickled out silently, as I kept my eyes on the floor. "I just...I just don't get it," I mumbled, my voice a little muffled from the tears. "Why am I not enough?"

Toni raised an eyebrow, "Enough for who? Your dad?"

"For everyone," I corrected.

I lifted my head to look her in the eye, and she seemed to understand. "You have been put in an _impossible_ situation. If I was in your shoes, I probably would've done the same thing. You did what you had to do to protect your family. It might not sit well with some people, but there was nothing else you could have done," she assured me. "You can't please _everyone_. And it's only hurting you to try."

Nodding, I knew her words to be true. Though, it was hard to let go of my negative train of thought—the one making a list of all my mistakes. It was then that Betty and Veronica returned to us from around the corner of the aisle, the two quickly coming to a stop just before us when they realized what was going on. "Oh, Diana...are you okay?" Veronica asked, her features etched deep with concern and sympathy.

"No," I replied, shaking my head. I sniffled and swiped my sweater-covered wrist across my cheek.

"Should we go home, call it a day?" Veronica asked, mostly rhetorical.

I chuckled humorlessly, lifting my eyes to look at her, "I don't have a home anymore—where am I supposed to go?"

"You can stay with us. Polly's room has been empty since she left," Betty stepped forward unexpectedly, confident in her offering. "You, Cash, the baby—even Killer. When my mom hears what's going on, she would be more than happy to have you guys. You can stay as long as you want and come and go as you please. No strings."

I knew better than to think the offer was a solid place to stand when Alice had no knowledge of its giving. But I was taken aback by Betty being the one to offer me a place to stay. It was most likely out of pity, or because she was in love with my brother. Correction— _half_ brother. The only part of Jughead that was mine, was the part of me I now hated. "Thank you, Betty. That would be amazing," I accepted, nodding gratefully.

She smiled, "Great. Um...I can just ride back with you, we can pick up Cash and your things, then go to my place and get you settled?"

"Alright. Sounds good," I replied.

Toni gave me a look, one that said _I told you so_ in the best way possible. I told you so that things would work. I told you so that things could get better. She slid her arm around me at mid-back, and the four of us all walked to the exit of the store in a somewhat close cluster. After all I'd been feeling the entire day, it was refreshing to feel a bit of light. Toni kept her arm around me the whole way out of the mall.

Then, just outside the building, Veronica split off to get to her ride while Toni, Betty, and I kept walking toward the truck and Toni's motorcycle. Betty started talking about the arrangements for staying at her house. The family's usual schedule, what it will be like, things they could help out with—like watching Cash when I work. "I can hang out with her at home after school when you work at Pop's," she said, turning to look up at me. "Whoever's home can take Killer out, too."

"Uh, about that—Killer's not the most sociable dog. He'll need some time to get used to you guys before he'll willingly go anywhere with you," I explained.

She nodded slowly, "Oh, okay...we can work with that."

"Sounds like we've got everything taken care of," Toni smiled up at me, rubbing her hand across my back.

I nodded, exhaling, "For now. If Alice really doesn't hate me anymore."

"I don't think she ever did," Betty shook her head. "My mom is an acquired taste—but she really does care."

We arrived at the back of the truck and Betty went to get into the passenger side, while I walked around to the driver's side with Toni. She finally let go of me to walk the few steps into the parking space to next to mine, where her bike was parked, and straddle the seat. I stood by the driver's side door, digging out my keys.

"Diana."

I didn't need to look to know who it was. But I did anyway. Sweet Pea stood just at the end of the truck, coming to a stop from a fast walk. His hands were in his Serpent jacket pockets, breath fogging in what was the last of the morning cold, with sunken features. "What do _you_ want?" I questioned, weakly.

He looked hopeful when he replied, "Can we talk?"


	21. 21: The Beginning Of The End

"Talk? Babe, it's-" I looked down at my bare wrist, before looking back up at him with a sigh. "-way too late for that."

Sweet Pea all but rolled his eyes, "Come on, D—hear me out."

"You _ditched_ me, Sweet Pea! Why would I want to hear a single thing you have to say? Better yet—why the heck _should_ I?!"

"I was scared, okay? The Serpents are my family—they're the only family I've ever had! I couldn't lose them!" he answered, exasperated.

I didn't know how to feel about what I was going to say next. But I said the words anyway, my voice coming out a little more hopeless than angry. "And yet...you could lose _me_ ," I replied, slowly nodding. The sunken lines of his face brought a sadness to his eyes I hadn't ever really seen. I continued, "If you can see me in pain and still not choose me, then this isn't love, Sweet Pea."

Sweet Pea scoffed flippantly at my words, "Then why would I be here?!"

"Because you feel _guilty_!" I exclaimed, throwing out my hands. "It has _nothing_ to do with _me_! So take your testosterone and what's left of your pride and put them _anywhere_ but near me and my baby. Because I'm done."

"That's _our_ baby, Diana," he corrected, angrily.

"You sold your royalties to this copyrighted work in progress the second you let me walk out of that bar."

I pulled open the driver's side door to the truck and Sweet Pea started toward me. In a flash, Toni appeared between us, holding up a hand to stop him. "Hey, back off, alright? You had your chance. Leave her alone before you make an even _bigger_ fool out of yourself," she told him—not angry, but stern.

As I climbed onto the seat and slammed my door, I could hear them arguing. Betty quickly got into the passenger side and buckled in. "Are you okay?" she asked me, quietly and tentatively. I turned the key in the ignition and started up the truck. Honestly, I didn't know how the answer to that question. But I did my best to answer it anyway.

Nodding a little, I replied, "I will be."

There was no car in the space in front of me, so I stepped on the gas, and the truck sped forward through the parking lot. I didn't need to feel bad leaving Toni to deal with Sweet Pea—I knew for a fact she could handle him, as I'd seen her do it many times before.

* * *

I pulled up along the sidewalk in front of the Cooper residence and cut the engine. Betty unclipped her seat belt and reached for her door. "Just take your stuff right up stairs," she said, pushing the door open. "I'll talk to my mom."

"Are you sure that's a good idea, Betty?" I asked, with my eyebrows lowered.

"Yeah, it'll be fine. Don't worry."

She slid out of the truck and shut her door, and I sighed before opening mine. It was stupid to get everything and everyone inside before making the arrangements. But it sounded like Betty wasn't going to take no for an answer. Which meant I needed to get plan B ready so we'd only have to deal with the awkwardness of not being welcome for a little while. I pushed out of the truck and Cash peeled herself out of the middle seat.

She made her way out as I walked to the back, where Killer sat in the bed with our duffel bags. I grabbed Killer's leash and lead him to the door of the bed, opened the door, and he leaped out. " _This_ is Betty's house?!" Cash questioned, in disbelief, as she stared at the big white house from the sidewalk.

"It's big, huh?" I smiled a little, leading Killer to her.

"It's huge!" she exclaimed, turning to face me.

I gave her Killer's leash, then reached for our bags. "It isn't much bigger than Ben's," I replied. "On the inside, anyway. It just looks bigger." I pulled out my bag and slung it on my shoulder, then pulled out Cash's. Cash started walking up the concrete leading to the door and I followed just behind her. It felt odd, going from house to house. But not once had FP tried to contact me so, obviously, he didn't care where I spent the night.

In my mind, it was the best thing for us. At least this way Cash wasn't sleeping on the street. So, I supposed it could be worse. I stepped around Cash as we neared the door, pulling it open myself. I was the first one to walk in. Cash went in behind me. As told by Betty, she went straight up the stair case just across from the door, ignoring the less than pleased sounds from the dining room and kitchen around the corner.

I, on the other hand, went to find the voices. Letting Betty speak for me and force her parents to let Cash and I stay didn't feel right. Leaving the bags by the door, I went into the dining room. As I entered, all voices went silent, and all eyes were on me. Hal was sitting at the dining table, Alice standing in the kitchen. "Mr. and Mrs. Cooper, I really don't expect this to be okay," I said, glancing between the Coopers. "But it's just for a night or two. I have another place but it needs a little work before it can be used. I can pay for the time we spend here, we'll get our own food."

"No, Diana-" Betty started shaking her head.

I held up a hand, silencing her. "I can't stay here for free. I can pull my own weight."

"Diana...we would...be happy, to have you here with us," Alice spoke up, speaking slowly, cautiously. Her words surprised me, but I was grateful. "You can stay with us as long as you need in order to get your next 'place' ready. And we'll help with whatever we can."

A quick glance at Hal said a lot. His tense body language was uneasy and disapproving. Incredibly apprehensive. But Alice finished her sentence regardless of his attitude. Betty smiled a little at her mom, her overall demeanor lit up with pride. "Thank you, Alice," I nodded once, with a closed-mouthed smile.

"Where _will_ you be going next?" Alice inquired, curiously.

I inhaled, shoving my hands into my pockets, "My childhood home. Ben gave me the keys a while ago...I just haven't needed them until now."

"Do you need some help fixing it up? I can get volunteers!" Betty chirped, turning toward me with bright and excited eyes.

My general mood of the day caused me to instantly regret coming to stay there with her bubbly attitude, but I forced myself to stay as positive as possible. "As long as Jughead's not there, why not?" I shrugged. "Toni might know some people, too."

"Okay, great! When do we want people there?" Betty asked me.

Her use of the word 'we' was humorous, and she was already pulling out her phone to start a text with multiple addresses. "Um, tomorrow morning would be best. I have a shift at Pop's in a couple hours and I don't get off 'til late," I answered, calmly. She nodded as I spoke, biting her bottom lip in concentration.

Alice spoke up then, "Do you know what supplies you'll need?"

She lifted her coffee mug to her lips and sipped. I didn't know just what I would need in order to make that place live-able. After all, I hadn't been inside it in over two years. I shook my head. "I'm not sure. It's still got all the old furniture, but the paint and various appliances will probably need touched up," I answered. "The front steps were a death trap when I was living there—I can't imagine how bad they are now."

"Why don't you and Betty go take a look at it and make a list? Whatever you can't cover, I will," Alice offered, setting down her mug.

Hal looked over at her, "Alice-"

"Look at her, Hal. She's sixteen, pregnant, and living on her own—what am I supposed to do, ignore she exists like _you're_ doing?" she retaliated, a bit angrily.

Betty and I both glanced between the Coopers with worried expressions. I didn't want to be the cause of an argument, or something that made their marriage even worse—if that were possible. But, when Alice wanted something, she tended not to let men stand in her way. Hal only sighed begrudgingly and looked down at his clasped hands, resting atop the table in front of him.

Alice gave the side of his head a look as if to say 'that's what I thought' before turning to look back at me, her features calming as she exhaled. "I'm really grateful for all you're doing for me and my sister," I said, starting to decline. "But I _cannot_ take anything else from you. A place to stay is more than enough. I can scrape by to fix up the house on my own. Thank you for the offer, though."

"Alright...let me know when you change your mind," Alice nodded.

" _If_ , mom," Betty corrected, raising an eyebrow at her.

Alice looked at Betty sideways, "No, _when_. She's going to change her mind and I will be right here when she does."

Betty gave me an apologetic look, but I waved it away. I had to leave the house a little earlier than I normally would have in order to stop by MLJ Comics before my shift started, with enough time to get done what I needed and get to Pop's on time. As I said goodbye to Cash, Alice said she would take her to school and that Betty would bring her home after. I didn't have any other choice but to agree to it.

Work started too soon to take her to school and ended too late to bring her back from school. Then I was off to plan on the way to the comic shop on the Southside. As I drove, I thought about what I was attempting, and it didn't seen too attainable—but I was going to try anyway. We would stay with the Coopers while I got the house ready, all the while working at both Pop's and MLJ Comics—if I got hired again—on top of going to school.

School was going to be an after thought. It would have to be. It was unfortunate, but it seemed like life was telling me something, constantly giving me challenges that made it harder and harder to go to school everyday. I was on the bridge when I felt my vest pocket vibrate with an incoming call.

Not taking my eyes off the road, I reached into my pocket and unearthed my phone. A quick glance told me just who was calling—someone I had no intention of talking to. _Jughead_. I hit the red button and stuffed my phone back into my pocket. Jughead didn't need to know where I was or how I was doing. If he knew, odds were that he would tell FP. And that was something I couldn't risk. That, and I just didn't want to hear his voice.

Finally, I parked the truck in front of the comic book store. It was my summer job, back before the ship hit the sand. Seeing the storefront brought back memories. Some fond, some not—I ignored them all regardless. As I pushed through the door, that familiar stench of cheap air freshener and moldy paper filled my nose. "Well, well well...I did _not_ expect to see you back here just yet," Geoff, the store's long time manager, spoke to me from behind the glass counter.

I walked toward the counter, smiling a little as I replied, "Neither did I, Gee-off. But, alas, desperate times…."

"Ah, I see. You're here for an early position," Geoff nodded.

I stepped up to the counter and leaned into the glass. Geoff always liked me—I only know because he wouldn't shut up about it—so I hoped to use that to my advantage here. Leaning forward on my forearms, I looked up at him through my lashes. "Got anything open? Anything at all?" I asked, hopeful and curious. "You know my skill-set."

Geoff wasn't older than twenty-five, but the lines of his face were deep-set like he'd lived a long life of troubles already. But he was the happiest guy you'd ever meet. Tall, charming, naturally slim. The guy would have it going for him if I was at least three years older. He looked down at me with a sigh, obviously trying not to let a smile win over his thin lips. "I don't know, Diana..."

"Come on, Geoff, it's really a crisis. I need emergency money fast, and this is the first place I could think of," I stood upright, leaning my palms into the edge of the glass.

An eyebrow popped on his forehead, "It was?"

"Yeah," I nodded adamantly.

He sighed again, relaxing his shoulders. "I mean...Brianna hasn't come in to work this week—I guess you could work her schedule," he finally agreed. "It's from opening until three o'clock. Think you can handle that?"

I nodded once, "Absolutely."

"Alright, then. You start tomorrow."

* * *

With a second job squared away, and Cash securely at the Cooper residence, I could work my shift at Pop's in peace. Pop's got me a larger shirt to wear so I wouldn't stretch out my old one with the ever growing swell of my stomach. It was a little more comfortable having a larger size anyway—it wasn't as restrictive. The pregnancy hadn't started to hinder my ability to work quite yet, so I was still able to get quickly up and down aisles with trays.

It was rather quiet at the Chock'lit Shoppe that day, and it only seemed to get quieter as the darkness of night crept in. Finally, at around nine o'clock, it got quite busy—with the rapid influx of patrons rushing in and filling the Shoppe in the bat of an eyelash. One moment, I was watching a tumbleweed blow through the dining area. The next, I was the tumbleweed. I hurried up the aisle with a tray full of dishes and took them back behind the counter to the kitchen.

When I came back to the front, FP was walking in through the door, the bell above his head chiming to announce his unfortunate arrival. I didn't know whether to scream or to cry, so I did what I do best—I ignored his existence. I grabbed a pad and pen from the counter and headed for the aisles without looking in his direction. Something he expected, probably. And it didn't surprise me when he didn't try to stop me.

I didn't even feel his eyes when I walked down the aisle and checked on a few customers. Kevin and Sheriff Keller sat at a booth near the back. When I got to their table, Sheriff Keller lowered his voice pointedly before saying, "Don't hesitate to flag me down if you need any help." It was a kind gesture. Though, I wasn't sure I would need to cash in on the offer.

Regardless, I smiled and gave him a nod. "Will do. Thanks."

Kevin gave me a supportive and sarcastically enthusiastic thumbs up and I returned it before heading back up the aisle. It was kind of nice having a closer relationship with the Kellers. Kevin fluctuated between acting like a younger brother and acting like an older one. Sheriff Keller could almost pass for a dad, but fell into the _supportive/protective uncle_ category. When I got up to the counter, FP was nowhere to be seen.

I assumed he was in the back with Pop, most likely asking about a job. The thought only brought dread to the pit of my stomach. Then the bell above the door rang, and I looked up from behind the register to find Toni, Ezra, Fangs, and a taller Serpent I didn't recognize walking into the Chock'lit Shoppe. My shoulders dropped as I sighed with relief upon seeing Toni. "Aren't you a sight for sore eyes," I commented, with dry sarcasm.

"That bad, huh?" she made a sympathetic expression, before smiling at me.

I sidestepped to the exit and stepped out from behind the counter to hug her. She hugged me tightly, reassuringly. "It's been a long day," I sighed, stepping back. Toni nodded slowly in understanding. More and more I felt like I could count on Toni for any emotional support I needed. And I wasn't sorry about it. Because she came through every time.

"Well, maybe a little good news will lift your spirit," she said, to which I raised my eyebrow, urging her to continue. She went on to say, "I found a few volunteers to help work on your place and get it ready for you and Cash, _and_ —drum roll, please—we're going to get it done over the weekend."

"Wow, Toni...how?" I questioned, flabbergasted.

She shrugged up a shoulder, "I have my ways. We just have to do a walk-through, get the supplies, and then we'll get started."

"Thank you, that's amazing," I lit up, feeling the weight of some of my doubts and stresses lifting. "Now we just have to actually do it all."

"Yeah, I feel ya. By the way, these guys are just a couple of the volunteers—there are more, don't worry," Toni said, tilting toward me as her tone turned reassuring at the end. She stood back and upright as she continued to introduce the Serpent I didn't know, "Also, you know Ezra and Fangs already, but this is Jesse."

I gave a closed mouth smile and held out my hand, "Hi, I'm Diana."

Toni sidestepped to make space just as Jesse was reaching for my hand, taking it in his to shake politely. "It's nice to finally meet you," he said, nodding once. "I've heard a lot." Mid-handshake, my disapproving eyes rolled to find Toni, standing aside. She only smirked at me, winking once. I moved my eyes back to Jesse's, retracting my hand.

"I'm sure only the embarrassing parts," I smiled to match my sarcastic tone. "I've actually heard nothing about you—are you a new Serpent?"

He shook his head, with a casual smile, sliding his hands into the pockets of his jeans, "No, I've been away for a while. I just got back to town yesterday."

His response only made me further wonder why, if he'd been a Serpent for any length of time, I hadn't seen him before. Then it hit me. My expression dropped as my eyes raked over him, taking him in with new eyes. "Oh my- Jesse _Jericho_? Fifth-grade-bent-braces-Jesse?" I practically gaped, completely surprised.

"Whoa, what?" Ezra perked up.

Fangs added, confused, "How did you have bent braces?"

There was a light, dusted-on shade of embarrassment to Jesse's features, his eyes on the floor. Then they flicked up to meet mine. "Thank you," he nodded once, not at all happy about this change in conversation. Then he looked at Ezra and Fangs, "Let's go find a table, alright?"

"What are you kids doing here?"

I didn't dare look behind me, recognizing FP's voice. Only my eyes moved—looking to the left to find Toni. She had a slightly panicked look to her face as she watched FP while the boys replied. "Just grabbing something to eat," Fangs answered him, calmly.

"How about you get to it, then, hm?" FP stepped up at my right, into my peripheral.

Fangs and Ezra didn't hesitate to start walking down the aisle for a booth. Jesse was a little slow to follow, too busy glancing warily between FP, Toni and I to get going. Only a nod from Toni would allow him to leave us fully. But Toni stayed at my side without question. FP stepped around to stand in front of me, and I could finally see him face on. He eyed me for a quiet second before moving his gaze over to Toni. "Go on," he titled his head momentarily in a gesture.

"I'm fine right where I'm standing," she replied, defiantly, sidestepping closer to my left.

He stared at her, and she stared right back, for a solid few seconds before he turned back to me. "You're coming home tonight, so get your things from wherever on the Northside you've stashed your sister and be at the trailer after your shift ends," he told me, sternly.

I shook my head, "No."

"I didn't ask."

"And I didn't stutter."

It still baffles me to this day, that response. I don't know where I found the courage to say it. But it was something that needed to be said, a line that needed to be drawn. He stared at me with equally surprised and angered eyes. "Respectfully, FP, Ben is still my legal guardian. You have no power over me. Now—if you'll excuse me—I have a job to do," I said, keeping my tone firm.

I turned and started down the aisle. Kevin and Sheriff Keller were watching the scene from their booth at the back. Keller looked like he was ready to get up from his seat at a moment's notice, but I shook my head and made a hand gesture that meant it wasn't necessary. The Sheriff adjusted to a more relaxed sitting position, giving me a closed-mouthed smile and a nod.


	22. 22: Nobody's Home

The walk-through of the house went well. Thankfully for me, Ezra knew a little more about home improvement than I did and could help me figure out just what I would need. Then it was off to the supply store for me and Toni. We worked our way through the supply list—only occasionally asking a store clerk for help—and made it back to the house just after seven. Fangs, Ezra, Jesse, Toni, Betty, Kevin, Cash, and I were the only ones at the house at the time.

So the seven us older kids worked to unload the truck. Then, the next step was to figure out what to have people do and in what order. Ezra was a big help in that department. I was completely out of my element with all of it. The house wasn't as bad as it could've been, but it still needed a lot of touch-ups and general maintenance. Though, it was only day one—so my main task was just getting all the planning and arranging done.

Cash was determined to spend her time before school planning out her room. It was only a two bedroom house, with one on the ground level and one upstairs. The bedroom and a half-bath were the only things upstairs. Everything else was on the ground level—which wasn't much. A living, dining, and kitchen area that all blended together, a bathroom next to that, and the master bedroom below the wooden stairs.

The 'laundry room' was a designated spot by the living room where dad had renovated to put in an old, clunky washer and dryer set. Thankfully for me, the set still worked, so I didn't need to replace it just yet—aka, I didn't need to fork over extra funds I didn't have. The flooring needed a deep scrub and there were some squeaky boards, but it was overall still use-able. All the old furniture was just that. Old. It could still be used, though.

Maybe down the road I would want to replace some items, but they were alright where they were for now. The old wallpaper mom had put up in the kitchen, around the tile, was peeling severely and slightly molded. It was on my list, so I got paint for the walls after removing the paper. Cash was upstairs in her room, occupying Betty and Kevin, when Toni and I carried the paint cans and the bag of rollers to the kitchen.

I hefted the can for the kitchen up onto the dirty counter, huffing out a breath. "Eggplant will look fine in here, right? I mean, there's so much light from the windows, you need something a little darker-" Toni's suppressed cackling cut me off, and I gave her a questioning look. "What?"

"That's the hundredth time you've asked me that since leaving the store," she answered, turning to face me from where she put the brushes on the dining table a couple of feet away.

I sighed, "I just want to put something I like in here so I don't feel guilty for taking down the paper."

"Diana, I'm confident your mom would be okay with this."

"She didn't even like purple," I scrunched up my nose in an expression.

Now Toni sighed, "It's gonna look great. We just have to hurry up and get it on the walls before you explode."

"Well, I have to work at the comic store until three, but I can do it after?"

"Perfect," Toni nodded once.

Voices from upstairs echoed into the ground level, mingling with the voices already present. Toni and I both paused to listen with curious expressions. I could just barely make out Cash's agitated voice, arguing that pink and green went together better than pink and purple. Then Betty sounded like the mediator, trying to diffuse the situation, before Kevin's voice overshadowed her attempt to calm things down. He argued the opposite of Cash, even offered a different color combination.

Cash wasn't having any of it. "That sounds intense," Toni cringed. I nodded in agreement, making a face with briefly widened eyes. It didn't take me but a moment to think of a way to permanently diffuse the bomb upstairs. I turned, angling myself a little more toward the living room, and whistled. All the boys in the room looked in my general direction almost instantly, out of pure surprise.

"Hey, Fangs," I said. "Can you please go upstairs and reel Cash back in? She's losing it."

Fangs nodded, putting down the tape measure he was holding for Ezra by the front door, "I'm on it, D."

He hurried up the stairs to the second level, and I listened closely. Cash and Kevin both explained their sides—Kevin a little more calm about it than Cash. Then Fangs said something I couldn't quite make out. Betty seemed to agree with whatever he'd said. Either way, the tones were calmer and the voices were quieter. There was peace. A moment later, Kevin came down the stairs. He was exhaling heavily, with widened eyes.

He walked around the corner and into the kitchen. "You know, I'd secretly always wondered what being on her bad side was like..." he paused mid-kitchen, shaking his head in an expression. "Never doing that one again. Mm mm. _Nope_."

Toni chuckled and began unloading the shopping bags previously set on the table. I almost couldn't hear it over Toni's laugh, but there was another voice in the room. A new one. A familiar one. I looked to the front door just as Jughead was introducing himself to Jesse. At first, I stared at him with saddened and sunken features. Feeling nothing but guilt and the ache in my chest. But, the more I stared, the more I felt differently.

My blood began to boil upon seeing his face, long before he ever noticed me looking. But when he did, he wore a cautionary expression—and his body language said that he was ready to run, if that's what it came to. He cleared his throat, "I, uh, thought you could use an extra hand."

It didn't matter to me that everyone in the room was watching, waiting for something to go wrong. All that mattered was my anger. "Get out," I all but growled the words, glaring at him with eyes filled with anger and sadness. For a moment, no one moved. Jughead stared at me with a surprised look—unsuspecting of just how angry I was. Seeing him not going anywhere, I spoke up, reiterating the phrase, "I said, _get out_!"

I took a step forward, throwing a finger in the air to point in the general direction of the door. Jughead's expression sunk from surprised to saddened in a matter of seconds. He nodded, holding up his hands in surrender as he took a slow step back. "Okay, okay...I'm leaving," he conceded defeat.

Jughead turned and made his way through the open front door, and I immediately headed for the downstairs bathroom. I went inside, let the door slam shut behind me, and turned the lock. No matter what I did for the people closest to me, it was never enough. It wasn't enough for them to return the favor. I did whatever I had to do to keep Jughead safe and out of Penny's warpath. Then, when I needed someone more than I need air, Jughead didn't even say a peep until hours later.

Hours later when I was already on the other side of town—literally—and completely done with him. Sure, maybe he didn't call or stand up for me because he was trying to make things right with FP. But that didn't make it hurt any less. It didn't matter why it happened. It just mattered that it happened. That's what it was like going through something emotionally traumatic—all you can do is feel it. And, boy, did I feel it.

I was sat on the toilet lid, my elbows on my knees and my face in my hands, trying not to completely unravel from one microscopic incident. It was ridiculous, how fast I could fall apart. A soft knock at the door didn't interrupt my sadness and self-loathing much—if at all. "Diana, are you okay in there?" It was Kevin. Just after saying that, I could hear him whispering to himself, "Why would I say that? that's a stupid question- of _course_ she's not okay."

He sighed heavily. Then, at normal volume, he spoke to me again, "Do you want to talk about it?"

"I'm fine, I just...need a minute," I replied, lifting my head enough to do so.

"Okay. That's understandable. But- I'm here if you need anything."

The sound of his footsteps as he walked away from the door came too soon to reply even if was going to. I took a few deep breaths and tried to calm down. There wasn't time for this. I had to be at MLJ Comics probably right now. So I got up and exited the bathroom through some foreign willpower I didn't claim to possess. "I've gotta get to work, but I'll be back to work on the kitchen at three-thirty," I said, as I walked quickly to the kitchen counter to retrieve my bag.

"Alright. We'll work on whatever we can while you're gone," Toni replied, eyeing me closely as I zipped by.

"Thank you so much, Toni. I owe you guys. Maybe I'll bring coffee with me."

Toni spoke louder as I headed for the door, loud enough to be heard, "Don't play with a girl's emotions, Diana!"

* * *

It was odd being back at the comic book store. Usually, MLJ Comics was just a summer job. Working it early was throwing off my sense of time. Then again, I didn't need some schedule-altering task to do that. Regardless, it was easy to slide back into the routine. One of the other employees came in at three o'clock to relieve me, and I was free to go for the rest of the day—though it wasn't much in regards to sunlight.

I knew if I showed up without coffee, I would never hear the end of it. So I stopped by Starbucks and got burgers from Pop's on my way back to the house. When I pulled up on the street in front of my family home, I expected to see what I saw when I left—ratty curtains drawn, front steps covered in dirt and moss, the door swung open to allow for ventilation. Instead, I saw something else entirely.

The front steps and small porch was clean, the door off its hinges and laying in the grass, no drapes in the windows, with Fangs and Betty standing over the door in the front yard talking. Jesse was using some small, roundish power tool to what looked like sand the front porch. If that was the outside, I could only imagine what the inside looked like. I pushed open my door and slid out, then grabbed the tray of coffees in one hand and the bags from Pop's in the other, before kicking the door shut with my boot.

As I walked through the open front gate, my eyebrows drew together. " _What_ have you Hufflepuffs done to my front door?" I questioned, approaching Betty and Fangs. The pair instantly looked up, their eyes finding me quickly. Fangs looked to Betty with slightly panicked eyes—obviously asking her what to say. Betty looked just as nervously clueless, but it was most likely just from surprise.

"We took it off so we could paint it," Betty answered me, rubbing her hands together in front of her with a _please don't be mad_ expression.

My eyebrows popped, "Paint it? With what?"

"This," Fangs finally spoke, holding up a color card.

I came to stand just in front of the two, and I squinted at the color Fangs held up to my face. It was a mixture of sky and robin egg shades of blue. It wasn't a bad color, but I was confused as to why it was chosen and just who chose it—because it sure wasn't me. "Who told you to make it that color?" I asked, calmly, as I glanced between the two of them.

Fangs sucked in his lips nervously, "Cash."

I nodded, having figured as much. There was no way Toni would make such a decision without consulting me. "Carry on, then, Huffles," I told them, as I began to walk past them to the porch. "I need to have a strongly-worded discussion with a Ravenclaw."

Jesse was, in fact, sanding the porch when I arrived. In need of safe passage into the house, I reached out with my foot and nudged the side of his leg that was propped against a step. He took a quick glance over his shoulder and, upon seeing me, immediately shut off the power tool. He pulled off his protective glasses as he sat back on the corner of the porch. "It's three o'clock already?" he asked, in disbelief.

I nodded, "Three forty-five, give or take. Coffee?"

I lowered the coffee tray toward him in a gesture and he gladly took one of the to-go cups. I proceeded into the house and, thankfully—for Cash's sake, mostly—not much had changed on the inside. The furniture was all slightly moved to the left side of the house, as if moved out of the way for some purpose, and the kitchen was void of wallpaper. I sighed, "Cash? Get your four-foot body down here, right now!"

Her footsteps pattered down the stairs as I made it to the kitchen. I set the bags and the coffee tray on the table, then turned to face her as she made her way across the room to me. My arms flew out at my sides in a _what gives? w_ ay. "You're not the one making renovation decisions here, Cashmere. Anything and everything goes through _me_ ," I said, sternly.

She dropped her shoulders, "I know that's what you said, but-"

"There are no buts! What did you tell them to do? I need to know what to reverse as quickly as possible."

Cash's overall demeanor changed. Looking back on it, it was evidently clear that she was really only trying to help. Trying to lighten the load while simultaneously being apart of it all. After all, this was her childhood home, too. With more saddened features, she answered, "Just colors. The door, the porch, and the outside."

An eyebrows rose on my forehead, "The outside?"

"Yeah...Veronica asked me what color scheme we were using for the outside of the house, so I told her which one. I didn't get a chance to show you beforehand—but it's not bad! It looks natural, I promise!" she was quick to smooth it over, desperately trying to make it okay. "She left to get the rest of the paint we would need. I...could show you what I planned? If you want?"

The last few words she spoke were slow, cautious. I'd felt bad for getting angry. It wasn't for a stupid reason, considering I genuinely thought we were going to end up with a unicorn castle for a house. But it wasn't as necessary as I'd originally estimated. So I exhaled a deep breath and nodded, "Okay, show me."

Her eyes lit up and she bolted to the staircase. Knowing how Cash thought, it was hard not to instantly picture bright pinks all over the house. But Cash came back down the stairs a moment later and sat on the old, rickety couch. She'd brought back with her a handful of color cards. "This is for the downstairs, to contrast the eggplant in the kitchen and keep the room bright," she explained, giving me a pale but rich, blue-gray color. "And this is for the outside of the house. With white trim to match the porch, of course."

"Of course," I nodded slowly, playing along with her all-business attitude.

The color for the outside was a pale but vibrant lime green. It would look good with the door and the porch, in theory. I would have to actually see it on the house to know for sure. "My bedroom is going to be a surprise—but follow me!"

She instantly leapt up from the couch, tossing her color cards onto the cushion to grab my hands instead. Her small arms pulled at me with an intensity fueled by excitement. I pushed myself up off the couch and ruefully followed her to the master bedroom. It was nerve wracking—finding out your ten year old sister painted your room without consulting you. For all I knew, it could've been a color I didn't like.

Take red for example. It looks great on lips, but I absolutely _loathe_ it on walls. But, when Cash pulled me into the bedroom, I was pleasantly surprised. There was an accent wall—the back wall right across from the door—painted with the same eggplant from the kitchen. The rest of the walls were the same shade of duller purple I'd had in my old room at Ben's. It was a color I enjoyed, but I didn't get to enjoy it very long.

"What do you think?" she asked, excitedly bouncing out in front of me to see my face.

"I think it's crazy you guys painted this already," I said, in a bout of shock from the color reveal. "But...I love it, Cash."

She gasped, her eyes like two stars sitting on her face, "Really?!"

"Yes, I really like it," I nodded adamantly.

Cash did her own version of a happy dance on the still plastic-covered floor. Then suddenly, from the kitchen, Toni's voice echoed throughout the house. "YOU BROUGHT COFFEE?" she asked, rhetorically, in a loud voice of joy. She found the coffee, something I knew would happen eventually. I smiled a little at the thought and Cash followed me out to the kitchen.

Toni was sitting up on the counter by the sink, clutching a to-go cup in her hands. As we walked in, she stopped gulping down the hot caffeine long enough to say, in a melodic voice, "This is why I love you."

"I also brought lunch," I leaned into the kitchen table to bring her attention toward the Chock'lit Shoppe bags, grinning.

Never once would I ever expect Toni Topaz could physically make her eyes that big. "I would call you a teacher's pet, but you're the teacher in this scenario, so," Fangs said, appearing at my left, digging into the food bags. "What's the reverse of that, anyway?"

"It's called being a kiss-up, Fangs," Toni replied, refraining from rolling her eyes.

Not a second later, Betty arrived at the kitchen. Fangs handed her a silver-wrapped burger and she gratefully took it, before turning and going to find a place to sit in the living room. Fangs grabbed himself a burger and did the same, going to find a place to sit. "You guys pork out, I'm gonna paint the kitchen," I said, pushing off the side of the table.

"Okay," Toni said, swallowing down another gulp of coffee before sliding off the counter. "Need some help?"

I shook my head, reaching for the eggplant paint's can, "Thanks, but I've got this."

Toni nodded, grabbed a burger from the bag, and then went to the living room. Cash followed along behind her. She had a habit of needing to be where the people are. Kevin and Ezra floated through separately in the following fifteen minutes, each grabbing something from the bags. I got the can of paint open and started my paint job on the wall shared with my bedroom. Painting wasn't something I was well versed in.

But I wanted to be the one to redecorate this area of the house. Mom spent a lot of time in the kitchen—cooking, cleaning, helping me with homework at the table. That's why she picked the wallpaper she did. Because she knew she'd be in there a lot and she wanted it to be something she enjoyed looking at. I wasn't too sure she would approve of this new color, but I knew she would understand why it had to be changed.

The whole of this project didn't leave me with warm feelings. This was my childhood home. No, the memories made here were not all good. But the majority of memories I had left of my parents were in this house. And everything I remember about those times was being changed and altered to be something different. Smearing the purple paint on the wall with a roller felt a little less like a fresh start and little more like covering up the past. I never was good with change.


	23. 23: Look What You Made Me Do

Veronica strutted into the house on her black stilettos, two paint cans in each hand, with Cheryl carrying in more paint behind her. I was sitting on top of the kitchen counter to reach higher up on the wall when they arrived, Jesse standing by the kitchen table with the screen door. He was getting it ready to install on the front entrance of the house. As soon as Veronica and Cheryl came in, he glanced back at me with a questioning look.

It was easy to read. _Who are these chicks?_ I exhaled and turned on the counter to swing my legs off. "We come bringing gifts!" Veronica said, happily, as she and Cheryl entered the kitchen area. "Where would like these?"

"Um, just on the floor somewhere is fine," I answered.

Cheryl was the first to put hers down. She exhaled heavily as she righted herself, "Those cans are heavy, and their pathetic excuse for handles dug _blisters_ into my palms."

"Please, Cheryl. Those are not blisters," Veronica all but rolled her eyes.

I gave Jesse a look, my best version of _unfortunately they're with me_. The corner of his mouth tugged up in a slight smile as he turned back to the door on the table. Veronica turned to face me from examining Cheryl's sore palms but, before she could say anything to me, her eyes got distracted by the presence of a male in the room. She instantly looked enticed. "Diana, who is this fine young man?" Veronica asked, eyeing Jesse with a smirk as she did.

"This is Jesse. He volunteered to help," I replied, leaning back into the cupboard behind me to cross my arms over my chest. I don't know why, but I added, "He's a Serpent."

Jesse looked up from the door briefly to smile politely at Veronica and Cheryl. Veronica made sure to stick her hand out, eagerly introducing herself. "I'm Veronica Lodge," she said. It was obvious Jesse was trying not to seem slightly annoyed at the interruption as he stopped what he was doing to shake her hand. Cheryl was next, only a lot more hesitant than Veronica. Veronica introduced Cheryl, "And this is Cheryl Blossom."

"Nice to meet you both," Jesse nodded once, smiling as he retracted his hand. He hefted the door off the table and continued, "If you'll excuse me, I've gotta get this on the hinges."

He skirted around them, looking visibly relaxed when he was out of the kitchen. I couldn't say I blamed him. Being put on the spot by googly-eyed girls wasn't the most comfortable thing, especially if you're someone who doesn't like attention. Veronica tilted her head as she watched him walk away, then she quickly turned to face me, painting on a bright smile. "So, how are you doing?" she asked, taking steps closer to me.

I exhaled, dropping my arms into my lap, "Eh...I'm alright. Changing this place is hard, but it needs to be done."

"Cash told us the paint colors to get—I'm pretty sure we got enough. Is there anything else you need? Anything at all?" she asked.

"Really, it's fine. I can't take your money," I shook my head, waving the offer away.

Cheryl stepped up beside Veronica, "We can't help with most of the renovating because, well, we're not good at it. But what we _are_ good at is spending money. We want to help, Diana. Just give us a list and we'll get whatever is on it. Consider this our contribution to the effort."

She was incredibly genuine and empathetic in the way she presented the idea. It made me feel bad for thinking of turning it down. I wasn't the type of person who wanted to owe people things. I wanted to have an even slate, return everything I take. But a gift wasn't as bad as my mind made it out to be. A little hesitant, I replied, "Well...we don't have beds. Or, really, any bedroom furniture at all."

"And this furniture in the living room was obviously purchased in the seventies," Cheryl wrinkled her nose, glancing around. Then, in a quick snap, she turned back to me. Smiling brightly, she said, "Don't worry! We're on the case. You'll have new furniture before sundown tomorrow."

Veronica clapped her hands together excitedly, "Yay! I'm already thinking maybe a beige...or a nice _gray_ sofa."

Cheryl and Veronica began walking toward the exit, commenting on colors and styles as they went. I dropped my head in my hands. What did I just do? Probably something that could be easily regretted. "Are they gone?" a male voice I knew belonged to Fangs came from somewhere nearby, though I couldn't see from where specifically.

Lifting my head, I answered, "Yeah, they're gone."

He sighed heavily, followed by the whine of hinges. Then Fangs appeared coming into the kitchen from around the left side corner. "I was hiding in the bathroom," he explained—though I didn't ask—as he came to sit at the table. Given the circumstance and my emotional state, I couldn't help laughing. The back of my head hit the cabinet behind me and I just laughed. This whole project was incredibly overwhelming.

It was either cry, scream, or laugh. Laughing seemed like the better option, more suited to this moment. So that's what I went with. My shift at Pop's was supposed to start at seven that night and end at midnight. So I tried to get done or help get done whatever I could while I was available. The screen door was put on over the newly painted front door, the front porch was stained, the kitchen was painted, and the living room floors were scrubbed.

It was wood flooring, so it was easy to simply mop and Swiffer the entirety of the room. Kevin used a mop, while Betty and I used Swiffers with cleaning pads. We were all at various spots of the wide room, scrubbing away. After we'd been cleaning for a few minutes, Kevin was the first to start conversation. "Diana, shouldn't you sit down for a while? You've been up non-stop since you got back this afternoon," he said, in a slightly concerned voice.

"I'm fine, thanks, Kevin," I replied, pushing my Swiffer around the couch.

"Are you sure? We can handle this if you want to take a break," Betty chimed in.

Jesse piped up next, from where he knelt by the front door, changing the locks, "I'm pretty sure she said she's fine, guys."

I was surprised by his calm interjection, but I understood why he agreed with me instead of pushing their point. It was most likely incredibly obvious that I was stressed out already. Having people hound me about something, causing me to answer the same thing repeatedly, would just make that worse—and that wasn't good for the baby either. "You know, you could help," Kevin remarked, sassy in his annoyance.

"What does it look like I'm doing?" Jesse responded, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

"You haven't helped with a single tough job since you got here," Kevin stopped mopping, putting his free hand on his hips while holding up his mop with the other. "Diana's been running around, trying to make sure everything's getting done, while working two jobs and doing whatever she can here. Maybe, if you put your back into it, the pregnant woman we're trying to help could take a break?"

I immediately stopped what I was doing, turning to see him. " _Kevin_ ," I hissed his name, causing his features to quickly relax as his eyes snapped toward me. "I appreciate it, I do, but...stop.

Arguing about something I already answered isn't helping anyone. Now apologize, please."

Kevin sighed, but he apologized to Jesse, before resuming his task. Betty was soaking in the drama with a concerned expression, slowly pushing her Swiffer around the places with the best view of the rest of us in the room. I sent an apologetic look Jesse's way before continuing to Swiffer the floor, exhaling a heavy breath. Not a second later, Jesse spoke up, saying, "He's right."

It caused everyone to look his way with confusion, as he was getting up from his knelt position by the door. I was paused in my place, eyeing him suspiciously, with rue in my gut. I knew exactly what he was going to do. But I didn't want him to do it. I'd secretly hoped he was going to do something else, maybe one of those 'tough jobs' Kevin mentioned. Instead, Jesse walked over to me and gripped the handle of the Swiffer that was in my hand.

He looked down at me with understanding eyes, "Take a break, Diana. Make it short, if you have to—but go sit down, okay? Please."

I stared right back up at him with bitter stubbornness, but it only took a moment for me to break under the weight of his brown irises. "Fine," I mumbled, letting go of the Swiffer's handle. I shuffled to the couch, the piece of furniture shoved against the back wall of the living area, and dropped onto the cushions. Jesse took over my place in the scrubbing. It was a kind gesture, but I felt bad sitting around while others were working.

After all, this was _my_ project and _my_ house. Shouldn't I be working harder than everyone else? It was my problem, not theirs. But I sat there for a little while and refused to let myself get up. Kevin was right to worry. I'd been on my feet all day, working at a place of business or working here. It was a lot. Especially considering the fact that I was pregnant, and whatever I did had serious consequences.

Overworking myself was not something I should've been doing. I'd been sitting down for at least fifteen minutes before my eyes caught moving, drawing them to the front door. Jughead stepped just inside. His features were determined—unlike this morning, when they were cautious and nervous. I sat up a bit on the couch defensively, "What are you doing back here?"

"Thought you might need this," he answered, holding up his hand as he started walking toward me.

In his hand was a Serpent jacket, one that was most likely mine. My heart began to race just seeing it. "Why would I need that?" I asked, as he held it out to me—standing a foot in front of me now. "I'm not a Serpent anymore, Jug."

"The heck you aren't. You're a Serpent by blood—taking away your jacket won't change that. Take it," he said, pushing the leather closer to me in a gesture. A bit reluctantly, I took it from his hands. Feeling the leather on my skin breathed instant relief. Relief from the bittersweet change, the sadness, the stress—anything and everything. Jughead continued, "We're taking down Penny tonight. Thought you might want to get some justice."

My eyes rounded as I quickly looked up at him, "Wait- what? Taking down Penny? How-?"

"It's a long story, but it's happening. You want in? You, more than anyone she hosed over, deserve this."

I stood up from the couch on my sore feet, and I looked down at the jacket in my hands. Did I really want to claim I was back in? Did I want to be back in? This didn't have to mean anything right now. All it had to do, was get rid of Penny—however in the world he planned to do it. Inhaling deeply, I shoved my hands through the sleeves and pulled the jacket folds over my shoulders. "I want in," I nodded once, looking to Jughead.

"Want back-up?" Jesse asked, from just across the room.

It wasn't something I had to think about—I just said yes. "Yeah," I answered, nodding quickly. He nodded in return and went to the kitchen for his jacket. I looked to a stunned and worried looking Kevin and an equally emotional Betty. I told them, "If I'm not back when you guys need to get home, lock up and head home. I'll call in the morning, Kev."

Betty looked like she wanted to say something, but didn't. Though he looked disapproving, Kevin stayed quiet as well, only giving me a concerned expression for goodbye. Jesse grabbed his jacket and the three of us headed outside—him, me, and Jughead. To my surprise, Toni and Ezra were waiting at two cars on the street. A van and a truck. Toni sat up on the side of the truck. She smirked, visible even in the dimly lit street after dark.

"I knew you'd say yes," she said, as we approached.

"What's the plan here, exactly?" I questioned, as she hopped down from the truck.

"We grab Penny at her warehouse, then the rest is up to you and Jughead," she filled me in—sort of—before climbing into the back of the van. Ezra was driving the truck, Sweet Pea was in the driver's seat of the van—it didn't give me a lot of options. So I opted to take FP's truck as separate transportation. Jughead squeezed into the truck with Toni and Ezra, I got FP's truck started as Jesse climbed into the passenger seat, and then we were off.

* * *

I couldn't see Penny through the wall of young Serpents between her and FP's truck, blocking my line of sight. But I knew she was there. It was a war within myself of whether or not to get out of the truck. Whether or not to announce I'd been here the whole time. All I had to do was think about what she'd done. What she'd cost me, who she'd hurt. That was all I needed to get my blood moving until it was hot beneath my skin.

Penny was hollering to be let go—I could hear her easily with the window rolled down. Finally, I forced myself to get out. No heads turned, no bodies moved when I shut the driver's side door. I walked the few feet between FP's truck and the huddle of young Serpents. I walked until I passed them, rounding the end of the line, until I could see her. She sat on her knees in the dirt a few feet from the line up.

There was a certain change to her expression as she stopped hollering, zoning in on my arrival. "Who do you think will hear you?" I questioned, my tone eerily calm. I took slow steps forward, keeping my eyes on Penny. Her eyes narrowed at me, and I found myself smirking a little. "What? Thought I wouldn't want to watch you burn?"

I came to a stop just beside Jughead, just in front of the group. Penny's expression loosened as she cackled. "Ha! This is cute. You can't touch me. I'm a Serpent. See?" she said, as she held up her arm and tugged down the sleeve. It showed us her Serpent tattoo. "It's against Serpent law!"

Cocking my head, I replied, "That tattoo doesn't make you a Serpent."

I held my right hand out to my left, toward Jughead. The part of this scenario I couldn't get over, was how easily Jughead gave me what I wanted. He didn't ask. He didn't try to convince me not to. He simply reached into his pocket and pulled out a switch blade. He placed it in my hand and I took it, moving my hand back to my right side before shooting out the blade. "Grab her," Jughead said, looking back at the others.

Sweet Pea, Fangs, Jesse, Ezra, and Toni all rushed Penny. She started to panic, but it was too late. They swarmed her, each grabbing some part to hold her down, and there was no way she was getting out of that hold. "No- no! Let go of me!" she shouted, trying in vain to pull out of their iron grips. "Let _go_!"

I took steps toward her, and all I felt was a burning rage. But it was calm, cool, like ice in my veins. "Oh, Penny. I'm not just going to watch you burn," I said, before crouching in front of her. "I'm striking the match."

Everything that had happened to me in the past two months had come to a head that night. It all lead me to that moment right there, in front of Penny with a knife, ready to get my own twisted sense of justice for those wronged by that witch. It wasn't just for me. No. I did it for FP and Jughead. I did it for Caleb and his sister. I did it for everyone on the Southside. Sure, it might have been taking it too far. Any sane person would say that.

But I didn't really care how far it was when I had already gone the distance. While the others held her down, I cut the thin layer of skin on her arm to rid it of the double-headed snake. It would've been a cleaner cut if she had held still, but I wasn't expecting her to just take it. When it was done, my hands were covered in her blood. Penny was screaming—even though no one seemed to care.

Per Jughead's instruction, we left her there in a Greendale ditch. After all, it was what she deserved. It was what she would have done to any one of us, given the chance. That's what I told myself, getting into FP's truck with her near dried blood on my hands. Jesse offered to drive, and I let him, so I sat on the passenger side for the return trip. We got driving, on solid road. It was what my body wanted, to mutilate her.

And that was something that scared me. It was yet another thing on my list of violence. Beating a man senseless just because I was told to, telling the Serpents to beat up Nick St. Clair, taking the Black Hood's deal, and now this. What was next? I didn't know. Something felt like it'd come unhinged in my chest, and I didn't know how to fix it. The thought of it all brought silent tears down my cheeks.

I sniffled hard and dug my phone out from my pocket. This wasn't the first time I'd smudged blood on the screen—little did I know, it wouldn't be the last. I pressed the six on the dial pad and then listened to it ring. After two rings, a man answered on the other end, "Everything okay?"

"Just checking in. How is he?" I asked, trying to mask my tears through the phone.

"As you would expect. He's annoying the heck out of me—when can you take him back?"

"Soon, I think. It'll just be a little while longer. I'm sorry it's been so long already," I said.

He sighed, "It's okay, D. I gotta go. Tell Cash I said hi."

"Will do. Bye."

The line went dead and I ended my side of the call, before shoving my phone back into my pocket. "You okay?" Jesse's voice startled me a bit. He'd been quiet for so long that I hadn't expected him to say anything at all. I used the leather sleeve of my jacket to wipe my cheek. It didn't absorb anything, just smeared it around. But I think it was the act that was what mattered. The act of trying to pull yourself together.

I shook my head, settling into my seat, "Not really, no."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

He sounded genuine in his offer. But I didn't really know what I wanted. I exhaled, tilting my head to lean it against the cold window. "I keep doing bad things. Bloody things. And I don't think about it—I just do it. What does that say about me, Jesse?" I asked, my dry mouth making my voice small. "If I can't tell myself no...this could get really bad. And I think it already has."


	24. 24: Talk Too Much

It was well past midnight when we finally rolled up in front of the Cooper residence. Jesse cut the engine and I carefully climbed out of the passenger side, shutting the door gently as not to wake up those on the inside of the house. Jesse did the same and met me on the sidewalk. "Let's get you cleaned up," he spoke quietly, gently.

I didn't have the mind to protest. Instead, I lead him to the door. He unlocked and opened it with my key, as not to smear any blood on the white paint. It was an adrenaline rush to tip toe up the staircase to the second level, down the hall to the room I shared with Cash. Inside it was a bathroom. The hard part was getting to it without Cash waking up. When I pushed open the bedroom door, Cash was nowhere to be found.

Most likely, she bunked with Betty so she didn't have to sleep alone. I pattered into the room with Jesse right behind me. We scurried into the bathroom, turning on the light. With the bright light, I looked worse than I had originally anticipated. My face was a bit puffy and tear stained, the overall look of me quite pathetic, and the blood on my hands and wrists was grotesque. It was an all too familiar look.

The feel of it, the smell. The emotions were bubbling up in my chest. Sadness, fear, regret, guilt, and a whole lot of shame. "Diana," I jolted hard at the sound of Jesse's voice, even at a whisper. My eyes moved quickly to find his, standing to my left. "Sit down, we'll clean the blood off."

"Yeah...okay."

I nodded a little, still caught up in my thoughts. I'd sidestepped from my position and dropped onto the closed toilet seat. Jesse sat on the edge of the tub with a rag he found in the drawers beneath the sink. He'd gotten it wet with warm water before sitting. Without hesitation, he took my right hand and started scrubbing with the rag. My mind felt all too vacant. I was somewhere else. In a different bathroom, months ago.

It came back to me in a pulsating headache. Sitting there on the tiles, bleeding, crying, wanting to die. Almost getting my wish. If it weren't for Sweet Pea finding me, I would have been dead and so would my baby. It was obvious that was the moment he'd started to drift away from me. We seemed so close. But the first little thing that pops up, and it's like we hold no loyalty to each other at all. It's like he always has me at the bottom of his list.

Maybe there was a reason for that? All I could see in my head was the moment leaving me at the hospital was brought up. The look he'd given me at the suggestion. A sudden tingle sent bumps up my arms, and I was snapped from my train of thought. My eyes were instantly sent down to my wrist. Jesse's thumb had brushed over the scar there. The first instinct I had was to pull away, and it took everything in me not to retreat.

I forced myself to sit still, to act like it didn't bother me. His eyes were soft but focused, a little surprised and a lot concerned, following the line across the width of my wrist slowly. Washing the blood off uncovered the scar. I knew he would find them—deep down I knew. But my mind wasn't in a place that I could prepare for it properly. "I tried to kill myself," I explained, causing his eyes to flicker up toward mine. "I was in a really bad place...it seemed like the only option."

"Do you still feel that way?" he asked, curiously.

"Not as much. Some days are really bad and I think about it a lot, but most are pretty regular," I shook my head a little, keeping my voice quiet.

It didn't seem to satisfy him. His eyes read that he craved more information, but his tight features said that he was forcing himself to refrain from asking anything more. Jesse finished cleaning my right arm and moved on to my left without another word. The silence settled into the small bathroom with a slight ringing in my ear. I watched him intently, waiting for something to happen. But I didn't know what.

Nothing happened, anyway. I felt like I'd been drinking. My head was tangled and I couldn't think. It was like a hazy, half-drunk memory. But I hadn't drunk anything at all. "What happened to you?" I asked, finally finding the mental clarity to speak again. "You were there for fifth grade, then you never came back to school."

He exhaled, stress coming to him from the mention, "Well...my step-dad thought I needed 'reformed', so he sent me away to boarding school."

"Why would _you_ need reformed?"

"I had some anger issues. Got into a lot of fights. Last time I saw Sweet Pea, I broke his nose."

My eyebrows popped above my tired eyes, still watching him closely, "How'd that happen?"

"He thought he was some big, tough guy so—naturally—I waited for him to try and pick a fight with me," he explained, throwing sarcastic shade at his younger self in a hushed voice. "Of course, he did eventually. He wouldn't stop teasing Ezra—he and I were really close. So, I stepped in."

"So, you're a hero," I remarked, rhetorically.

The left corner of his mouth hiked up as he glanced up at me, "If that's what you want to call it."

"Do you have a girlfriend?"

"Um...no," his eyebrows furrowed, and he chuckled a little.

"Good."

On a whim, I leaned forward—pushing his chin up to make him look at me as I did. Our lips connected and I felt it all fade away. The fear, the regret, the sadness, all the thoughts of my previous trauma. They were gone. Jesse pulled away after a quick second, just enough to see my face. His eyes scanned mine questioningly, curiously. My lungs were already on fire, making it hard to breathe right. I thought it was hard to focus beforehand.

Now, focusing was a nightmare. Jesse's eyes melted to something soft and I could see what he was going to do before he leaned in again. Our lips collided with a sudden intensity I didn't think either of us expected. His hands cupped my cheeks and mine slid into his long hair. With mutual interest and effort, our mouths opened to deepen the quick kisses. I didn't know why I'd kissed him to begin with. It was something my body and mind decided on together, but left me out of.

I'd expected it to feel wrong. I expected it to feel like when Archie kissed me in his kitchen. But this felt nothing like that. It didn't feel wrong, or bad, or like I was making some huge mistake kissing the wrong person. Instead, this felt totally and completely right. The bumps on my arms only intensified when his hand dropped to my lower back, pulling me closer as he scooted toward me. My fingers locked into his hair.

It was a rush. Adrenaline coursing through to defrost my icy veins. It felt like a release I'd been trying to find for a long time. I couldn't breathe, yet I had plenty of oxygen at the same time. My head was spinning. And it felt like that long into the rest of what was left of the night.

* * *

I woke up begrudgingly at the stroke of seven am when my alarm began to wail on the nightstand. It wasn't immediate. My eyelids felt incredibly heavy from the previous night's emotional turmoil, making it hard to reach for the alarm. I thrusted my hand in its general direction, rubbing my right eye with my free hand, when a childish squeal pierced through the remaining quiet. The bedroom door flung open and Cash shot into the room.

She sped across the carpet and launched herself onto the bed, on top of my legs. "Cash!" I shouted, disapprovingly, as I quickly sat up. "What the-"

"IT'S CHRISTMAS EVE! _CHRISTMAS EVE_!" she bellowed, on her knees atop the comforter with her arms flung out at her sides and her head tilted back.

Rolling my eyes, I fought a smile, "I know, Cash. It's the same day every year."

"Mrs. Cooper and I are going to make cookies!" she told me, her eyes full of excitement.

"That sounds like fun, Cash," I nodded, rubbing my eyes.

I was still half asleep. None of my responses were well thought out, or thought out at all. Cash bounced a couple of times on the bed before launching herself back off, onto her feet on the carpet, and she ran back out the bedroom door. Someone had given her caffeine. I was sure of it. And whoever it was, was going to get a talking to. Groaning a little, I leaned off the side of the bed to dig my hand into my duffel bag.

My hand pulled out a sweater, and I sat upright to tug it over my head. Just then, the bathroom door clicked open, and Jesse walked into the bedroom. A dark towel hugged the curve of his hips, his wet hair frayed against the sides of his face at odd angles. "Good morning," he said, crossing the room.

I cleared my throat, pushing away the covers to get up, "Morning."

I swung my legs over the side of the bed and grabbed a pair of jeans—the kind with the stretchy waistband, a new addition to my wardrobe. Pulling them on, I stood up, trying to blink myself awake fully. "We should probably talk about this," Jesse said, from behind. He was right. Talking about it and hashing it out would be a good idea. But I dreaded it.

Even so, I nodded as I turned around to face him, tugging my sweater down over my jeans, "Yeah, we should."

"I don't think it should happen again. At least, not for a while," he said. It surprised me, being a response that I wasn't expecting. It most likely showed on my face, because he was quick to continue his reasoning, all the while staying calm and reserved, "You've got so much going on, Diana. Your brother, your dad, your ex-boyfriend—I'm _hoping_ he's an ex, anyway. It's pretty obvious you have a lot to sort out, and I don't want to be _that_ guy. I won't. You deserve better than that."

His words kept me in a moment of pause, genuinely surprised by how thoughtful he sounded. He was coming at it from a point of wanting what was best for _me_ , not doing whatever it was he wanted, and I wasn't used to hearing that. I'd never really heard it, not from a significant other or possible partner. Ever. At least, not this genuinely.

Nodding slowly, I found the words to respond, "Okay. I wish things were different...but, we can be friends, right?"

"Of course, absolutely," he nodded adamantly.

"Good. So, I'll see you downstairs."

My skin was itching—I needed to get out of there as soon as possible. So I turned to leave as soon as the words left my mouth, and I made it out the door quickly with no protest. Not only was it incredibly awkward, but it was a situation I'd never been in before. A situation I shouldn't have put myself in to begin with. I tried to dig up my reasoning for it as I walked down the staircase, but I couldn't find anything.

As I reached the bottom of the stairs, I could hear Cash's giggling all the way from inside the kitchen, along with Alice's voice. It was full of joy. Something I wasn't used to hearing from her. Of course only Cash could bring such emotions out. Cash could make anyone smile just by walking in the room. I went to the kitchen and, sure enough, Cash and Alice were balling up cookie dough onto baking sheets at the kitchen island.

Cash was laughing about the three dough balls she'd stacked on top of each other on the baking sheet, saying it was a dough man—her parody of a snowman. When you thought about it, it was something goofy you'd laugh at for a moment and then move on with your life. But Cash was _cackling_. It was like happy evil laughter. Alice noticed me the second I stepped foot inside the kitchen, and she looked up from the dough with a smile.

"Good morning, Diana. How'd you sleep?" she asked me.

"Alright, thanks," I nodded a little.

She helped Cash size a dough ball as she spoke to me, "You didn't come home until really late, I heard the front door—okay, that's good, Cash—did Pop keep you later than you expected?"

It was just a harmless, curious question. But I didn't know what to say. I didn't know how to lie about this one. Suddenly Betty's voice came from my right, toward where I knew to be the dining room, saying, "She was working late on the house, finishing up the paint in the kitchen."

I glanced in her direction, surprised but grateful. Betty gave me a reassuring smile. "You're sure you don't need more help over there?" Alice asked me, slipping her hands into a pair of oven mitts. "You've been working so hard—and now you're losing sleep because of it. None of that is good for the baby, Diana."

Alice put the tray in the oven, and Cash danced excitedly. "Sugar cookies!" she exclaimed, before turning to face me. "They're your favorite!"

"Yeah, they are," I smiled at her.

"Diana?"

I turned to look over my shoulder at the sound of my name. Jesse stood at the base of the stairs, fully dressed and looking a bit out of place. My internal panic rose to eleven when Alice spoke up behind me, saying, "Who is this? And why did he come from upstairs, Diana?" She spoke calmly, but it was easy enough to tell she was concerned and slightly angered at the same time.

"This is Jesse, he's a friend of mine—don't worry, he slept on the floor," I told her—lying through the last bit.

Then I walked quickly down the short hall to meet Jesse at the stairs. He bent down a little, leaning in as he lowered his voice. "I should've just climbed out the window," he said, pulling his eyes from Alice to look into mine. Honestly, that probably would have been a better plan, looking back on it.

Shaking my head, I waved it away, "It's fine, really. Do you want to stay for breakfast?"

"No, no—that's okay. I think I'm just gonna head out. My shift starts in an hour and I've got to stop by my place first," he said, casually.

"You work on Christmas Eve?"

He shrugged up one shoulder, with a small smirk, "Gotta pay rent somehow. I'll see you later."

Jesse patted my upper arm once, in a kind of friendly gesture, and started for the door. It felt so weird, letting him leave that way. With that pat like we were pals. It seemed so awkward. But, then again, it was most likely all from my overthinking. That, and I was still reeling from last night.

* * *

After a light breakfast, I drove FP's truck to my childhood home. Cash was having too much fun with Alice to want to come to the house today so I went alone. When I pulled up in front of the white fence, the first thing I noticed was having to park quite a ways behind a large delivery truck. Then I noticed Cheryl directing people in and out of the house, people that were carrying furniture. I quickly cut the engine and slid from the truck.

I shut my door, then hurried around the front to get to the gate at the start of the walkway. "Cheryl, what is all of this?" I asked, as I approached her where she stood just off the porch.

"Merry Christmas, Diana! I told you there'd be knew furniture before sundown," Cheryl replied, happily.

"It's Christmas Eve! How'd you get anything here today?" I questioned, confused.

Cheryl smiled, "I have my ways. Come inside and see what Veronica and I picked out."

She grabbed my hand and pulled me along with her, squeezing us past the people bringing in furniture. I briefly wondered just how much they bought. Knowing them, and the amount of random furniture around in the living room, most likely enough for an entire house. Probably a lot of things I didn't need, as well. "Some of it isn't where it goes just yet, but the bedrooms are complete and so are the bathrooms," Cheryl told me, as we walked into the house.

The living room furniture was all a dark gray-blue color. A couch, a love seat, and two puffy chairs. There was a dark wood coffee table in amongst the set, too. A new, dark table stood in the kitchen with stacks of plates, bowls, and cups on top of it. Noticing the table caused me to notice the refrigerator and dish washer. They were new. My eyes rounded as I looked to Cheryl, "Cheryl...how did you two do all of this?!"

"Veronica may or may not have dipped deeply into her parents' bank account," Cheryl replied. She was quick to add, "But don't worry, there are far worse things she could've spent the money on."

"How much did _you_ put into this? Aren't you practically broke?" I questioned her.

She sighed, "Diana, I love you to death, but stop. Stop asking about the price, and start asking yourself where you're going to put everything."

It was a nice thought, to throw all my worries away and just plan it all out completely carefree. But it weighed heavily on my mind. All of it did. The final bits of furniture came and then the trucks and delivery men disappeared. And then there were two. Cheryl and I started working out how to position everything. We had only been doing it for a few minutes before Veronica arrived at the house. She walked through the door in a crazy sweater and ugg boots, keeping her typical skater skirt.

"Ugh, it's so cold!" she said, shaking her upper body like a penguin. Then, taking steps further into the house, she looked around and said, "Wow, it's starting to look like a house in here."

Seeing her made me feel things. Things I couldn't name. All I knew was that she'd spent a lot of money doing all of this for me, Cash, and my baby to have a place to live. And she absolutely did not have to—but she did anyway. I let go of the coffee table I was pushing around and hurried toward her almost immediately. She wasn't paying attention, so she didn't notice until I lurch at her, wrapping my arms around her neck tightly.

Veronica made an _oof!_ sound as we collided, caught off guard. "Thank you so much, Veronica," I said, before stepping back to see her face. "I honestly don't know how I'm ever going to make this up to you."

"Diana, this is a _gift_. There's nothing to be made up for," she shook her head.

Her words made me want to hug her again. But Cheryl pulled us into a debate on where to put the sofa, and everything else slid almost literally under the rug. At the time, I couldn't understand why Veronica would do such a thing. We were close, but I didn't think we were that close. I didn't know just how short the wait for the answers to my questions would be.


	25. 25: All I Want For Christmas Is You

Cash sat atop my folded legs on the floor, feet from where Alice and Hal sat in chairs in the living room. Betty was digging under the Christmas tree and passing things out. My life had been busy, but I hadn't needed to make a last minute rush to the mall. Through the year, every year, I grab little things I know certain people will like. I save them for birthdays or Christmas—and I buy according to what I have money for.

I have reserve presents for all of next years birthdays already as it is. _All I Want For Christmas Is You_ by Mariah Carey was playing softly from the radio in the dining room. A CD Betty had put on when we first woke up. Cash was bouncing to it in my lap. "This one's for you, Cash," Betty smiled, stepping over to us with a medium-sized square. It was wrapped in gold paper with snowflakes swirling across it in a design.

Cash took the box, pulling it onto her lap, and I noticed the handwritten tag on the top. It was from Alice. My eyes moved from the box to Alice's face. She was smiling brightly as she watched Cash begin to tear the wrapping from the cardboard, anticipating the priceless reaction to whatever gift was inside. I hadn't expected us to spend Christmas with anyone but each other—much less get gifts from other people.

But Alice pulled me aside this morning, before Cash woke up. She told me she wanted both of us to be apart of it, apart of the event usually reserved for family only. I felt like I couldn't say no, given the circumstances, but i'd genuinely wanted to join them. It was something I didn't know I would feel until she pulled me aside. Cash finished ripping off the paper and quickly got the folds of the box open, causing a plush thing to fall out.

It wasn't until it hit the carpet that I realized what it was—a unicorn. This unicorn was like Cash's, but it was a different style from the set. A loud, elongated gasp escaped Cash as she picked up the stuffed animal. "PRINCESS PEACHES?!" she exclaimed, in utter shock. I jolted back a bit from the sudden outburst, the volume almost bringing a ring to my ear.

Betty started chuckling from where she stood by the tree. Even Hal was smiling a little, which was odd. Alice was completely lit up. "I know how much you love Butter, so I thought you might want to get her a friend," she explained the gift, smiling at Cash.

Cash shot up from my lap, bolted across the space between us—which wasn't much—and threw herself at Alice. "THANK YOU, MRS. COOPER!" she practically shouted, clinging to Alice tightly. Alice laughed, hugging Cash back. Betty took the moment of space to tip toe toward me and hold out a thinner looking, slightly rectangular present wrapped in red. I took the gift, though a bit hesitantly.

From the look of the tag, this one was also from Alice. I was completely clueless as to what it could be. Alice never let on to knowing anything I was into. Or, really, anything about me at all. But I tore the paper at the folds on the back and pulled it off the front. Slowly, my hands came to a stop as my brain caught up with my eyes. Everything in me became rigid. Inside the wrapping was a framed photograph of a brunette.

She was youthful, with chocolate hair and green eyes, and a large pregnant belly. The woman was sitting on an old, striped couch and smiling up at the camera just in front of her. The light from the window behind her cast a bit of a shadow on her face, but I knew exactly who she was. My mother. The couch she was sitting on looked like FP's. Taped to her pregnant belly was a deep purple bow, placed right on the top of the swell.

It was a Christmas photo. That much was clear from the torn wrapping paper on the couch beside her. It all had snowflakes and trees on it. I hadn't realized just how blurred my vision had become until a drop hit the glass of the photo. I pulled my eyes away enough to look up at Alice. "How did you find this? I've never seen this picture before," I said, around my teary eyes.

"Ben had it stored away in his attic. I found it in a box of things he'd given Hal to throw away, and I thought you'd want to have it," Alice answered, her voice quieted just a little.

I looked back down at the picture in my hands, removing the rest of the wrapping. Based on the date in the corner of the picture, mom was pregnant with _me_ in this photo. I understood then what FP meant when he said I'd looked like her when she was pregnant with me. Because it was true. I looked exactly like her. My hair was slightly longer now, but virtually the same.

A warmth in my chest pushed me up off the floor, moving me quickly toward Alice. She stood to meet me as I reached her, wrapping my arms around her tightly, causing her to do the same. I still had the frame in my hand but I didn't care. "Thank you, Alice," I sniffled hard, more water droplets trickling down my cheeks as my chin rested on her shoulder.

"Your mother and I didn't always see eye to eye..." she pulled back to take my shoulders in her hands, her eyes looking into mine softly. "But I know she would be _incredibly_ proud of the strong young woman you've become, Diana."

I nodded a little, wiping at my cheek with my sleeve and sniffling. "Wow, mom," Betty's voice caused me to glance in her direction. She, too, was wiping at her eyes to dry them. After sniffling, she went for another present and I mouthed another thank you to Alice before sitting back down with my picture frame. Cash quickly came back to sit in my lap, and I loosely moved my arms around her. She snuggled her new unicorn to her chest.

But she looked intently down at the picture I held in front of her. Cash was almost eight when our parents died. Even now she's too young to truly understand just what dying means. She and mom were close and more than likely had very fond memories. But I wondered just how much of her Cash would remember when she got a little older. Did she even remember those things right now, looking at the picture?

* * *

We had just finished breakfast when the doorbell rang. "Hm, I wonder who that might be," Alice thought aloud, before getting up from her chair. She walked around the table and through the living room to reach the door. I stood up from my chair and Betty followed suit. Betty, Cash, and I started taking the breakfast dishes to the kitchen sink. Though, my ear was tuned into whatever conversation might take place at the front door.

The door hinges creaked lightly as Alice opened the door. "Well. What do you think _you're_ doing here?" I heard her ask, in an annoyed and defensive tone. The sound of her voice alone let on to just who it might be. But then he spoke. And my muscles locked up.

"I'm here to take my daughter home, Alice," it was FP.

"She _is_ home."

"How dare you try to keep her from me. I can't get ahold of her for days, and then I find out it's because you're hiding her _here_ ," FP said, a bit angrily. I put whatever dishes were in my hands at the time into the sink, then stepped closer to the kitchen doorway in order to listen better. FP continued, "I need to talk to her. Is she here?"

"That's the thing, FP—I really don't think _she_ wants to talk to _you_ ," Alice stood firm.

FP groaned, "Come on, Alice! She's my daughter."

"Yes, one you threw away like garbage. Now, if you'll excuse me, we were just finishing our breakfast."

Alice began to step back, close the door, but I came out from the kitchen into the hallway. "Hold on," I said, stopping her. She turned to look at me, an eyebrow raised questioningly. "I'll talk, for a minute." Though I could tell she didn't like it, she nodded and wandered back to the dining room.

I rested my left hand on the door, leaning into it a bit. FP's features looked more worn than usual, his overall demeanor tired. But he looked relieved upon seeing me. He exhaled, readjusting his stance to rest his hands on his hips. "Look, kid, I know I messed up. I know leaving the Serpents isn't what you wanted," he said, his voice calm. "But I'm doing everything I can to protect you—and if that means you get a little angry at me, so be it."

"I'm not angry. I'm just done. I don't understand, FP. I've been with the Serpents practically my whole life, and not once did you ever try to stop me. There were decisions that needed to be made, tough calls. I was all that was here to make those decisions and we survived just fine—because we _relied_ on each other to make it. Now you're back and suddenly pushing each other away is the _only_ way," I vented, trying not to let my emotions get the better of me. "It doesn't work like that, FP."

He looked down for a moment, searching for a response. "So it's not 'dad' anymore, huh?"

"You've made it very clear that it's not."

"Diana, I'm trying to do right by you. You of all people know I'm not the best father in the world—but i'm trying to be for you and Jughead. What did you want me to do? Let you to continue being a drug mule for Penny while you're four months pregnant? You're sixteen! You don't make the rules."

Swallowing hard, I responded, "I wanted you to work with me! I wanted us to handle it _together_. That's what families do."

"I wish it was that easy," he shook his head a little, eyes a bit saddened.

"It _is_ that easy. You would know if you actually tried," I spat the words at him through clenched teeth, causing him to lean back on his heels in surprise. "Now, it's Christmas. And I know I didn't ask Santa for _you_."

Stepping back, I pushed the front door closed. Alice came to stand at the start of the dining room as I entered the living room. Her expression said she had questions, and her mouth opened, only to be interrupted by another knock at the front door. I stopped in my tracks with a sigh. Alice made a face, " _Now_ who is it?"

I shrugged, throwing my arms up, before turning around and walking back to the front door. Once I pulled it open, my eyes settled on Veronica and Hermione Lodge. They both smiled at me, but Veronica's smile was a little brighter. "Merry Christmas, Diana!" she beamed.

"Merry Christmas," I smiled, relieved it wasn't FP again. "What brings you both by?"

Veronica glanced at her mother a second before turning back to me, all the while replying, "Well, we have a gift for you and Cash."

"From the both of us," Hermione added.

Alice stepped up on my right just then. "That's very thoughtful, Hermione," she smiled, though I could tell her skin was crawling at the sight of Veronica's mother. It was in the crinkle at the corners of her eyes, the faux brightness to her features. But the Lodges didn't suspect a thing. Alice turn to me, "Go on, I'll get Cash."

"Thanks, Alice," I nodded.

She smiled at me, placing a hand on my shoulder, and then walked deeper into the house to find my sister. I looked to Veronica and she smiled again, before taking my hand and tugging me onto the front steps with her and Hermione. She placed her hand over my eyes almost immediately. "No peeking!" she said.

I laughed, "Okay, okay—no peeking."

Veronica on one side, Hermione on the other—we made it down the steps and then down the second set of concrete stairs at the end of the walkway. They stopped me, positioning me a little, just at the bottom of the stairs. "Alright! Are you ready? Open 'em!" Veronica said, cheerily.

She removed her hand from my eyes, and the brightness from the fallen snow of the morning nearly blinded me. It took a second of blinking for my vision to refocus and adjust. But, when it did, I saw a black car parked just in front of us on the road, along the sidewalk. I knew it wasn't Hermione and Veronica's. On the side, it said it was an XTerra. That's when it hit me. I started shaking my head, taking a step back.

"No, no, no, no—this isn't mine," I looked between both Lodge women, agape.

Hermione smiled, chuckling, "I'm afraid it is, Diana."

"Do you like it?" Veronica questioned me, eagerly. "We wanted to get you something that was baby adaptable but still sleek and stylish. How'd we do?"

I was speechless. Veronica was clinging to my right arm, about to explode from excitement. It was amazing how low my expectations had been for Christmas. And just how little I'd thought of my friendships. I didn't think I meant this much to anyone, let alone Veronica. "I...I don't- I don't know what to say," I admitted, letting out an airy chuckle at my own inability to form a sentence.

"Then don't say anything! Just drive," Veronica said, holding up a set of car keys.

Veronica and I both laughed as I took the keys from her hand, and I wrapped my arms around her in a tight hug. She hugged me back briefly, before Hermione encouraged us to get going. So we broke apart and I pressed the remote unlock button on the keys, causing the car to make a hollow beeping sound twice. Veronica hurried around to the passenger side as I opened the driver's side door.

Alice came out of the house with Cash, and Cash sprinted ahead to the sidewalk. "Get in, Cash!" I told her, as she bounded for the car.

"Whose car is this?" she asked, as she climbed into the backseat.

"It's yours!" Veronica answered, settling into the passenger seat. "Well, Diana's—but it's for you, too."

Cash was practically bouncing off the walls in the backseat. At the last minute, Betty came outside to stand beside Alice. I started the car and rolled my window down, before waving her over. "Get in, loser! We're going for a joy ride," I said, aiming the words at Betty.

"COME ON, BETTY!" Cash bellow, as her window was rolling down.

Betty laughed and ran to the other side of the car, climbing into the backseat behind Veronica. "Be back before dinner, alright?" Alice said, from the sidewalk. I held up a thumb with a smile in a response, before rolling my window back up. Veronica turned on the radio and I was taken aback by the quality. The sound system in FP's truck was barely holding on, and sometimes you were lucky if you could get the thing to turn on—let alone sound good.

Every station was playing Christmas music, so she flipped through the channels until we found one Cash wouldn't let us skip. And we drove. We drove around town, checking out Christmas lights, and testing out all the features this new ride had to offer. There wasn't a radio station playing the Alvin And The Chipmunks Christmas song, which disappointed Cash. "Wait, which song is that?" Veronica asked, twisting to see the backseat.

"Is it this one?" Betty asked, before starting to sing. "Christmas, Christmas time is near. Time for toys and time for cheer-"

Shrieking, Cash joined in and sang with her, "We've been good, but we can't last. Hurry Christmas, hurry fast."

"Want a plane that loops the loop!" Veronica started singing with them, all three belting along the lyrics they could remember. Cash sang louder for her solo line, "Me, I want a HULA-HOOP!"

"We can hardly stand the wait! Please, Christmas don't be laaaate!"

* * *

The snow was still around but it was beginning to thaw. Christmas was long over. When the news of the Black Hood's reveal and death hit the papers, it seemed too good to be true. But it was. So it was time for something long overdue. I stood at the bus station before the first day back at school after Christmas break, waiting for a bus from San Junipero. It rolled in right on time, at seven thirty.

The bus pulled in and, slowly, its passengers began to offload. About halfway through the offload, I saw a familiar face, dragging another familiar face along with him. A bit of a smile-smirk came to my face as I pushed off the side of my car. I pulled a hand out of my jacket pocket to flag them down. Joaquin jutted his chin to say he saw me, and started pulling Dilton in my direction. Dilton shuffled along nervously.

Like he wasn't all too sure about being back in Riverdale. And, honestly, I couldn't blame him. Joaquin's expression was worn and completely done. He gave Dilton a shove forward as they reached my position by the road, sighing heavily. "Take him, _please_ ," he said, annoyed.

Dilton looked offended, rolling his eyes, but he didn't protest the comment other than that. "Thank you for doing this, I know it wasn't easy," I told Joaquin. "But it _is_ good to see you again."

"It's good to see you, too, D," the corners of his mouth upturned in a smile, before his eyes moved down to my stomach. He made a brief hand gesture, his expression flattening out. He looked to be at a complete loss for words. But he commented, "Never thought I'd see this, though. I always thought you'd be one of those people that live alone and then marry for money when you're forty."

"Uh...thanks?" my face contorted in confusion, but I fought a laugh.

"How's everyone doing, anyway?" Joaquin asked.

"Toni, Fangs, Ezra, and Jesse are great. Haven't talked to Sweet Pea in a while, so...I don't know."

Joaquin looked confused, "Did things go South between you guys already?"

"I know, _that's_ supposed to happen after we have our _second_ child," I quipped, sarcastically. Then, inhaling, I answered truthfully, "He has different priorities and I don't need a project right now. I need stability—not someone that can't make up their mind."

"Yeah, I hear that," he nodded in understanding.

"Can we please hurry this up?" Dilton questioned, leaning toward Joaquin and I as he finally spoke since arriving.

"How about a _thank you_ , Northie?" Joaquin narrowed his eyes, leaning toward Dilton in an intimidating posture.

Dilton shrunk back, averting his eyes. A vibration in my pocket caused me to glanced down, sending my hand into my pocket to retrieve my phone. I could hear Dilton and Joaquin arguing about something but I wasn't really paying attention to it. I pulled my phone from my pocket, only to see the screen lit up with Sweet Pea's face. My thumb instantly pressed the red button. Shaking my head, exhaling, I put my phone away.

Joaquin turned back to me, away from Dilton, with a completely unamused and done with the world expression. "If that's all you need, I'm out," he said, jutting a thumb over his shoulder. I could understand his rush to distance himself from not only Riverdale, but the people in it—namely the one he'd been forced to bunk with for the past couple weeks.

"I think that's it," I smiled a little. "Miss having you around, though."

"Miss _being_ around—just don't think it's time yet," he replied, smiling a little as well.

Groaning, I stepped forward and wrapped my arms around his neck in a hug. He reciprocated my gesture, putting his arms around me in his own hug. Joaquin and I weren't entirely the closest of friends, but it was true that I missed having him around. I missed a lot of things from those days. The days of sitting on a bar stool by the pool tables, drinking and watch Tall Boy beat everyone out of their bread money for the week. Despite it's downs, it was probably the highest time of my life.


	26. 26: Miss Movin On

I hadn't been to school as much as I should've been and, no doubt, my grades were sorely lacking. It would be hard, but it was easy to say that actually completing full school days was my New Year's resolution. I pulled into the Southside High parking lot, at the back of the school, and cut the engine. Having this new vehicle was proving incredibly useful. Except it didn't have that big bed in the back that the truck had.

That part was a drag, but it was still an upgrade in virtually every way. As I sat in my seat, digging in my bag for my pencils—something I was notorious for forgetting at Riverdale—movement in my left peripheral caught my attention. I glanced up, only to see Jesse pull up on a bike in the small section of motorcycles to the left of my car. The first thing I noticed was the motorcycle. It was a Harley, shiny and black.

I got out of my car as he was putting the stand down and taking off his helmet. "Nice bike," I commented, shutting my door before turning to face him fully. Still, my eyes were on the motorcycle. It'd been a while since i'd been on one, and I missed the feeling. Not enough to get my own—but I did miss it. Jesse glanced up, and his plain expression contorted to one of surprise.

"Oh, hey. Is this car _yours_?" he asked, his eyebrows popping.

With his helmet in his lap, he jutted a thumb in the air toward my car. I smiled proudly, holding up the keys, "Why, yes it is! The perks of having rich friends, I guess. It was a Christmas gift."

"Wow, congrats. Looks great," he complimented.

He said the words just before getting off his bike. "Thanks," I nodded once, before sidestepping toward the school. I pointed at his motorcycle, "Not as great as the bike, though—on the inside, i'm drooling, I swear."

Chuckling, he shook his head, and I smirked before walking to the entrance of the school. As I walked through the doors, I was reminded why it was so easy to skip school. It was dark, full of weird smells, and taught even weirder people. The one good thing about Southside High? Not many people seemed to have a problem with my pregnancy. Sure, I'd gotten a few comments and snickers from some Ghoulies.

But the majority of the school attendants didn't bother with it. It was either because they truly didn't care, or simply because they didn't care to get beaten up by the Serpents for giving me dirty looks. No one here knew Sweet Pea and I weren't as close as we usually were. They didn't know I was fair game now. And a part of me hoped they never would. I reached my locker, rolling in the combination before pulling the door open.

Just then, Fangs' back dropped into the locker doors to my left, startling me a little. "Good morning, Chica," he smiled at the evil look I'd given him. "How is my Godson on this fine, fair morning?"

"He's about to kick your-"

"Hey, language, Cassidy!" Ezra admonished, sarcastically, as he and Jesse walked by in the hall.

Ezra was walking backward beside Jesse, most likely just to see my reaction. I held up my middle finger in his direction and he barked a laugh, before turning around to walk straight ahead normally. Fangs chuckled. "Idea—Toni and I were thinking we should have a housewarming party at your 'new' place," he told me, turning to face me with his left shoulder leaned into the lockers.

"Cash would have a hay day with that," I huffed a chuckle, smiling a little.

I sorted my things inside my locker while he replied. "Exactly! Which is why it's a perfect idea," Fangs said, before crossing his arms. His smile was cheeky—he was really pushing for it. "Come on, D. What do you say? Food, fun, housewarming gifts wrapped with duct tape—it'll be great."

I sighed lightly, giving in, "Alright, fine."

"Yes! Is Saturday good?" he asked, pushing off the lockers.

"Yeah, sure."

It was like the air thickened before I even saw who'd approached. The hairs at the nape of my neck stood on end, goosebumps up both arms, causing me to turn my head before I heard his voice. "What's up, man?" it was Sweet Pea. He and Fangs did their little bro greeting, with a weird handshake and a chest bump. And I turned back to my locker, moving faster to finish so I could get moving to class.

Nothing like academia being a smokescreen for avoiding painful, inevitable conversations. I got what I needed for my first class and shut my locker. "Diana, can we talk?" Sweet Pea asked, sliding in beside me where Fangs had been. Out of curiosity, and rue, I glanced around me. Sure enough, Fangs had disappeared to give us space.

Sighing heavily, I forced myself to look up into Sweet Pea's warm irises, daring myself not to flinch, "Do I look like I want to talk to you?"

"This is messed up—not talking to me because I didn't react the way you wanted me to," he vented, his eyebrows pinching in slight annoyance. "Like it or not, your dad is in charge. What he says goes. If he gives an order, I'm _going_ to follow it."

"What if he told you to walk into traffic? I'm pretty sure he would, if it meant getting on my good side again."

He tilted his head, giving me a look, "So you want me dead now?"

"I want whatever will get you _away_ from me," I replied, a bit angrily.

My arms were already decked out in bumps, but a certain other tingle up my spine caused my eyes to flicker to the left. Across the hall at the other wall of lockers, a few yards down the hallway, was Jesse and Ezra. Ezra was yapping away about something—something important, I'm sure—but Jesse was looking directly over at me and Sweet Pea. Curiously, defensively. I had half a mind to wave him over.

But, instead, I looked back up at Sweet Pea and stood my ground on my own. "That baby is mine, too—so you can push me away, ignore me, and lock me out all you want. Nothing is going to change who the father is. You can't take that away from me," Sweet Pea said, tone a bit aggressive.

"Watch me," I snapped.

I took a step forward, sidestepping around him, and his hand grasped my upper arm. Instinctively, I twisted, and sent the back of my hand across his face. He instantly let go, head snapped to the left from the hit. Pulling my bag strap further onto my shoulder, I continued walking, further down the hallway. I got a few yards away when I felt a presence at my side, a second before a familiar voice spoke. "Hey, Diana—you okay?"

I glanced up—it was Jesse. Just a step behind him was Ezra, fiddling with his backpack zipper. I inhaled a deep breath, exhaling it fully before speaking. "I'll survive," I answered, with a single nod and a tight-lipped smile. "I actually feel like that slap might have relieved some stress."

"You always this violent?" Jesse asked, with a sarcastically questioning expression.

"It's worse on Wednesdays," Ezra answered before I could, coming up to walk on my right side.

Rolling my eyes, I smirked, " _Please_."

"Don't make me tell him about that time you knocked out a Ghoulie," Ezra threatened jokingly, aiming a straight finger at me. I scoffed, opening my mouth to rebuttal, and he leaned up and around me to see Jesse, continuing, "I caught her socking a Ghoulie right in the jaw before we could pull her away—'we' being literally all of us, because she somehow has the weight of a dead elephant."

It was all innocent poking fun, just a joke. But it reminded me of that ever present and ever growing problem. That problem being my violent streak. It wasn't like Jesse's previous 'anger issues'. I wasn't picking fights in the schoolyard. I was beating men half to death and mutilating women who take advantage of me. When family is involved, I took things to a whole other level. But it was still no excuse. Not an excuse at all.

I didn't hear what Jesse and Ezra were laughing about before my ears were filled with the sound of our Principal on the intercom, his voice blasting throughout the whole school to broadcast his message for the day. "Attention all Southside students—Southside high has been deemed a public health hazard, and has thus been shut down, effective immediately," he said, his voice crackling in the speaker.

All three of us had stopped walking to listen. What he said only made my whole body fill with dread. The Principal continued, "Please retrieve your things from your lockers and report to the offices to receive your transfer location. Thank you."

Shouts and yells of excitement echoed out before he'd even finished speaking. The whole hallway was immediately entranced in a series of claps, whoops, screams, and shouts. It was incredibly loud—so much so, I had to cover my ears with my hands to ward off an incoming headache from the noise. In a second, Fangs and Sweet Pea were hurrying by with a bunch of the other Serpents toward the offices, hooting and hollering.

I looked around at the chaos in complete confusion. The suddenness of it all was overwhelming. But what confused me was why, and why right now. Southside High wasn't a public health hazard—only a hazard to those of us actually in it, and only because of the Ghoulies and the constant fights. Not for anything else. Unless you counted the Jingle Jangle literally everywhere.

"Well, one more thing to celebrate at your housewarming party, right?" Ezra shouted, leaning toward me to be heard over the outside noise.

"Does everyone know about that already?" I questioned, looking up at him with a raised eyebrow.

He nodded, bottom lip pulled in, "Uh, yeah, pretty much."

Rolling my eyes, I suggested we head to the offices to find out which school we were being transferred to. Hopefully, being a returning student, I could easily get into Riverdale High. It would be better than being bused to Seaside every morning, two hours away. The commute would be horrendous.

The offices were a madhouse, but they'd put the transfers on a couple different papers and pinned them to the announcement boards, which made viewing a little easier. All you had to do was find your name under one of two locations—Riverdale High and Seaside High. Those that found their names slowly squeezed out of the room into the hall, allowing for new people to cram their way up to see the lists.

I sighed, "This is absolutely pathetic."

"Cool it, short stuff," Jesse put a hand on my shoulder, leaning down so I could hear him. "I'm going in."

He righted himself and elbowed his way into the group directly in front of the lists. Second only to Sweet Pea, Jesse was the tallest in the room. "How tall does he think I am?" I questioned, thinking out loud with a furrowed brow. I was slightly offended by being called short at all, considering I was actually a fairly good height—five foot eight, to be exact. I was maybe seven to eight inches shorter than him but I was pretty close in height with Ezra.

And I didn't hear anyone calling _him_ short. "Don't take it personally. Anyone shorter than six feet is one of Santa's elves to that guy," Ezra told me, as he was shoved into my side by more people trying to get through the door. I rolled my eyes, puffing out an exhale.

After a minute or two, Jesse elbowed his way back out of the crowded area to where Ezra and I were standing by the door. The three of us immediately moved into the hall before discussing anything, just to make room and allow for us to actually be able to hear each other. "So? Where are we going?" Ezra asked, a bit impatiently, as we stopped by a few lockers.

"Riverdale High, all three of us," Jesse answered, exhaling.

"Oh thank goodness," I sighed in relief.

Ezra side-eyed me, "You really wanna go back there after the way you left?"

"I can't afford the gas to get to and from Seaside everyday, and I wouldn't have time to take care of Cash or go to work," I explained, a little like it was obvious. "Besides—I can handle having to share the hall with a few Bulldogs."

* * *

There was a certain feeling in my chest, walking up the front steps of the school again. _Riverdale High_. My freshman year was a disaster. Sophomore started out just the same, then I transferred out. And now I'm back again to finish it out. I came in a little earlier than the other transferred Southsiders, per Veronica's request. She wanted me to help her handle the transition. In her own words, I was a great candidate for this position because of my unique standing with both sides of Riverdale.

So I walked in the door promptly at seven-thirty, as told. I didn't need to go looking around the school for Veronica—she was already at a table she'd set up with information about the school, schedules, and activities not too far down the hall from the entrance, just before the stairs.

She noticed me approaching and smiled brightly, "Diana! It's so good to see you back inside these walls."

"Ah, if only I had such a positive idea of this building," I smiled, coming to stand just beside the table, next to her.

"Well, maybe we can change that? Consider this a second chance to make good memories here," she said. Then, turning more toward me, she added, "Before we get started—how are you doing this morning? Feeling sick at all? Do you need anything?"

I chuckled, "Thank you, but I'm mostly over the morning sickness. Now I seem to only get sick when I smell certain soaps."

"Soaps?" her nose crinkled in her confusion.

"Yeah, I had this really good tropical-scented shampoo and I loved it, but I found out the hard way I can't smell it without getting sick. I think it might be the coconut. That, or the pineapple," I explained, bobbing my head as I spoke. Veronica hummed, as though it was something interesting she'd never known, and turned to the table.

She told me what all she'd put out specifically and where it all was. Then she started asking me questions about how the students would react to it, if there was anything she needed to be prepare for—anything and everything that might go wrong. "The only person you'd get push-back from would be Sweet Pea, but everyone is on the same page about the transfer—everyone's just excited to be at a real school," I answered all questions at once.

Veronica sighed with relief, nodding once, "Okay, good."

"Hey, Diana."

I turned at the all too familiar voice of Archie Andrews. He eyed me a little, his gaze lingering—obviously unintentionally—on my stomach, as he stepped up beside Veronica. Veronica slid her arms around his middle, and he put his arms around her as well. She was all smiles. But the look on Archie's face was unsure. Like he wasn't mentally prepared to see my face again so soon. And he definitely wasn't prepared to see the baby bump.

There was a tense level of awkward, but Veronica didn't seem to feel any of it. "I didn't realize you were going to be here so early," Archie commented, casually. All smiles, Veronica filled him in on her request to have me by her side as she welcomed the newcomers—as if I wasn't a newcomer as well. Because, well, I kind of wasn't. But it was odd being treated differently, especially when Jughead wasn't.

After Veronica finished, I spoke up on a whim, but it was something that needed to happen. "Hey, Arch—can we talk for a sec?" I asked, narrowing one eye in a questioning expression. His face said my question was completely out of left field—because it totally was. But he slowly started to nod.

"Yeah, of course," he replied. Then he kissed Veronica's cheek, and told her, "We'll just be a minute."

I started up the hall toward the stairs—more specifically, for the empty classroom I knew was just to the right of them. I could hear Archie's sneakers squeaking occasionally on the tile as he followed along not far behind me. He followed me into the classroom and I closed the door behind us, to ward off the powerful ears of Veronica Lodge. "What's up?" Archie asked, turning to me a few feet inside the door.

I turned to face him fully, and I inhaled a deep breath. "I just thought we should hash this out now, because I don't want to deal with this for the rest of high school," I began, trying to work up my nerve so early in the morning. "I don't love you, Archie. And you don't love me. You're in love with Veronica, and I'm happy for your both—really, I am. So...don't turn Veronica into another Diana."

Though it was slightly vague, Archie seemed to understand almost immediately. I could tell by the way his posture changed. His eyes averted in thought, and he exhaled deeply. "I don't know why I keep holding onto you. I love Veronica, with my whole heart—but you're in the back of my mind and I can't figure out why," he admitted, looking at me again.

Sliding my hands in my jacket pockets, I said, "Well, you didn't let go of me before moving on with Miss Grundy, either. We can try it and, if it works out, maybe we can be friends? That's what we were before all of this. I haven't forgiven you for a lot of things...but that's something I have to work on. All we can do is move forward with our lives. You, with Veronica. And me, finding myself in a life with just Killer and Cash."

"I'd like that a lot," Archie nodded.

"Good," I smiled a little. "Starting now, there will be no mentions of the past. We will walk down these halls like we've never walked them together before. A clean slate for both of us."

"Agreed. We're leaving it all here in this room."

I nodded once, and turned for the door. It wasn't what Southside Diana would've done. But there was no mistaking just how good it made me feel. It made me feel lighter, like I could physically notice the difference between holding onto that hate and letting it go. This was the first step to my internal plan to happiness. Toni's grandfather was right to say you can't change the past. Because it was true. All I could do was go forward.

So that's what I did, taking my first step to emotional freedom all the way back to the table with Veronica. She happily greeted me back and jumped into planning what she should say. Archie moved up on her other side, and he kind of leaned around her to glanced my way knowingly. His lips were in a small smile, and I smiled back, giving my best confident expression. He nodded to himself and looked down at the table.

It wasn't long before more students were floating through the halls. Kevin and Josie came to meet us at Veronica's table after a while. Josie was quick to compliment me on how great I looked, though I didn't really feel like I looked as great as she drummed me up to look. Regardless, it was nice. And then the long awaited moment had come—the Southsiders were in Riverdale High.


	27. 27: Out Of My League

"Friends! On behalf of the students and faculty here at Riverdale High, welcome to your new school," Veronica greeted the new Southside students now standing before her, just on the other side of her table. Toni had widened eyes as she glanced between those of us on the other side of the table—Veronica, Archie, Kevin, Josie, and finally me. "To ease this transition, i've set up a registration desk where you can get your locker assignments, class schedules, and a list of sports and extra circulars. We encourage each and every one of you to drink _deeply_ from the cup that is fair Riverdale."

I had to admit, the spiel was a little much. But that was Veronica. If you needed someone to really put on a show and be personality plus, she was your girl. I felt a little awkward standing there beside her, with my hands in my pockets, watching my classmates get the speech while I was so obviously set apart. "In other words, we need you to sign up for things so we look good," I spoke up, sarcastically commenting.

There were chuckles throughout the group of Southside kids. "Stand down, Eva Peron," a voice that was undoubtedly Cheryl Blossom's came from behind. All on our side of the table twisted to see behind us and, sure enough, it was her. She came marching down the staircase with Reggie Mantle—along with a bunch of Bulldogs and Vixens right behind them.

"There's the school spirit I so fondly remember," Jughead quipped.

Sighing, I stepped toward the incoming train of privilege. "Is this really necessary, Cher?" I questioned, crossing my arms as I gave Cheryl a disappointed look.

"Yeah, no one invited fascist Barbie to the party," Veronica commented behind me.

"Wrong, Veronica. No one invited Southside _scum_ to our school," Cheryl responded, stopping a foot before me. Then she crossed her arms and addressed the other Southsiders, "Listen up, Ragamuffins! I will not allow Riverdale High's above average GPA to suffer because of classrooms that are overcrowded with underachievers. So, please, do us all a favor and find somewhere else to debase with your hardscrabble ways."

"Why don't you come over here and _say that to my face_?"

I turned just in time to see Toni step out from around the table, visibly ready to tear Cheryl to pieces. Cheryl didn't miss a beat, completely unaffected. "Happily, Queen of the Buskers," she said, stepping forward. I held up my hands to stop her from coming any closer, my palms pressed to her upper arms. Then, in an unlikely turn of events, Archie stepped up behind me.

"Okay, guys. Everyone. Can we please just put our Northside-Southside differences apart and start over? A new slate?" he questioned, glancing between both parties.

It seemed our discussion of starting over in our relationship had gotten him to think about starting over everywhere else he fathered a grudge. Reggie immediately looked repulsed by this idea. "You don't speak for the Bulldogs, Andrews," he said. Then, leaning closer to Archie, he added, "And, need I remind you, these greaser snakes showed up at _your_ place trying to kick _your_ butt."

"Happy to finish what we started," Sweet Pea said.

He bulldozed through and Toni quickly stepped aside, not even trying to stop him. But Jughead and Fangs quickly grabbed onto the leather of his jacket and held the giant back. "Alright, enough!" I shouted a bit, mostly to get everyone's attention. "This is getting us nowhere. We're all just here to go to school, so let's do that. _Now_."

I mostly looked at the Serpents for that last, emphasized word. Jughead and Fangs pushed Sweet Pea on, and Toni went with them as they started down the hallway past the Northsiders. I looked to Cheryl, dropping my hands as I took a step back. "What was _that_?" I questioned, harshly.

In an instant, her face was innocent and void of any distaste she'd displayed when looking at the Southside students just moments ago. "We have to keep our school clean, Diana," she said. "If we're not careful, they will ruin it for all of us."

"Well, why don't I just hurry along then—seeing as I'm going to ruin everything for you," I remarked, offended.

"What? No, I didn't mean you," Cheryl was quick to explain, stepping in front of me as I tried to walk by her.

"Cher, I'm a Southsider. What you say about _them_ counts for me, too."

There was a look of guilt, of apologeticness, mixed with confusion on her face. I only saw it for a moment before turning and walking back to the table. The other Southside kids were getting their schedules and locker information, so I got mine, too. Suddenly Ezra appeared at the front of the table, and he rifled through the lists for his info. "Right here," I said, grabbing his sheet off the pile and holding it out to him.

He took it from me and, as his eyes roamed the pages, said, "Thanks. This place looks way fancier than I anticipated. I feel under-dressed."

"Relax, you're fine. Come on—I'll show you around," I chuckled, before tilting my head to the left in a gesture.

I took my papers and started down the hall, in the opposite way of the other students. Ezra followed along just behind me. After a second, Jesse caught up to us from the crowd, papers in hand. "Are these kids always gonna be like this?" he questioned, falling into step with Ezra and I.

Sighing, I shrugged, "I honestly don't know. It just depends with these trust fund kids."

"How did you actually go to school here and not get chased out with torches and pitchforks?" Ezra asked me.

"They didn't know I was Southside," I smirked a little.

I'd checked the locker numbers for each of them, and found they were relatively in the same general area. My locker was the same one I'd had before when coming here. Ezra's and Jesse's lockers were on the other side of the hall, and a few lockers apart. I directed them toward theirs and then shuffled over to mine. The combination was the same, and it was almost effortless to roll it in, opening the door in a second.

It was disgusting, just how much I remembered about being here. Too much. Inside the locker was the same familiar layout. I was planning the organization of my books and school supplies when a familiar male voice spoke out, echoing from a little ways down the hall. "Well, well, well," I turned my head, an eyebrow raised, only to find it was Reggie walking toward me. "Look what the cat dragged in."

Rolling my eyes, I turned back to my locker, listening to the sound of him getting closer, "What do you want, Reginald?"

"Oh, you know, just wanted to welcome you back. I see you've been busy," he said, now only a foot to my left. With the word 'busy' I knew he was referring to my stomach, given the smug look on his face and the way his eyes did the gesturing for him. Then, he added, "But I guess that happens when you're a Serpent slut."

"What did you just call her?"

It was Jesse's voice. I turned toward Reggie, to better see both parties. Ezra narrowed his eyes, smirk on his face, leaning back into the lockers with his arms crossed over his chest. "I think he called her a slut," he replied, pretending to be clueless. He was smirking like he was excited—excited for what he knew was going to happen.

Jesse made it across the hallway with three quick strides, but he didn't pursue Reggie with his fists. He stepped over to us, angling himself between us, and stared Reggie down. " _Leave_. Before I plant your face in a locker," Jesse threatened, almost as if through clenched teeth. I watched carefully, my eyes flickering between both boys, just waiting for it to get violent. If it were Sweet Pea defending me, it would've _started_ violent.

That's just how things were. But this approach, so far, was my favorite. Diffuse the situation with intimidation, not a beat down. Reggie still looked smug when he held up his hands, taking steps back. "Okay, okay...no need to get possessive of your trash," he said, as he smirked at the both of us. Then he turned on his heels and sauntered back up the mostly empty hallway. I exhaled a long breath of relief when he did.

Jesse turned to me almost immediately, his voice changing instantly from angered to concerned, "Are you okay?"

"I'm okay," I nodded quickly. "Thank you for not hitting him."

"Well, these guys don't really need more ammunition," he shrugged one shoulder, and I understood what he meant.

"But I wanted to see his face planted in a locker," Ezra whined, sarcastically disappointed.

Jesse and I both chuckled at Ezra's comment. Then things carried on. There were classes to get to, clubs and sports to sign up for. My first class was Algebra. Fangs was the only Southside student in that class with me. We purposely sat as close to each other as we could get, only one student sitting between us. It was good to stick together, if only for today. What with Reggie roaming about, looking to cause trouble.

After Algebra was Chemistry. My new partner was Midge—someone tame, someone I could handle. When she could, she complimented me, saying I looked great since she last saw me. And she even congratulated me on the baby. Though I could tell it was a bit weird for her to say it, I appreciated it regardless. Walking out of Chemistry, I literally just about collided with someone. When I corrected my path and took a step back, I nearly shrieked.

"Jade?" My eyes lit up upon seeing her.

She smiled crazily, "Diana! It's so good to see you!"

Immediately, Jade pulled me into a hug as tight as she could manage with the baby bump between us. Still holding on, she asked, "How is it going, being back here?"

"It's not too bad," I answered, as we parted. I shrugged, "Well, not as bad as it could be."

She nodded in sympathetic understanding. I'd been filling Jade in through 2am conversations via text since I left Riverdale High. Really, she was the only one I actually wanted to keep in contact with. I always felt like I could tell her anything and, no matter what it was, I wouldn't get judgment for it. Just unwavering support and someone to watch my back. It was like having a Northside version of Toni around.

Just when that thought entered my mind, Toni Topaz graced us with her presence, alerting us to her proximity with a heavy sigh. I turned to her as she approached, and she immediately began speaking. "Principal Weatherbee just outlawed Serpent Jackets," Toni said, coming to stand to my right.

She crossed her arms with a slightly perturbed expression. My eyebrows shot up on my forehead at this news. "Why would he do that? Did something happen?" I asked, confused.

"Yeah, that guy, Reggie, spray painted a pitiful looking snake on the school insignia in the hallway. He told Weatherbee we did it. Now we can't wear our jackets, and our tattoos have to be covered up, or we're suspended," Toni explained.

"Geez, that's terrible," Jade said, empathetically.

"Reggie tried to start a fight in the hallway earlier," I told Toni, glancing between her and Jade. "But he couldn't get it—that's probably why he went for the spray paint."

Toni crossed her arms, "What the heck is this guy's problem with us, anyway?"

"Honestly? Just that we're Serpents. And we're from the Southside. Two strikes," I held up two fingers for emphasis.

"What a bunch of privileged a-"

Toni's insult was cut off by the ringing of the bell. The three of us had to split for class, but we agreed to meet up and talk at lunch. In English, I had no choice but to sit next to Cheryl. She didn't look very pleased with me. In other words, she didn't look at me the entire class. But that was to be expected. Cheryl wanted everyone to pick sides, and she just assumed I would be on hers. But I couldn't stand with her.

Not when that meant making life hell for people just because they weren't born into rich, influential families. It was complete BS that no reasonable person would stand for. So I didn't. When English let out, I gathered my things and walked out the door without so much as batting an eyelash in her direction. I knew Cheryl. All it would take was showing I wasn't going to budge because of her ignoring act, and she would rethink it all.

I learned this tactic from dealing with Cash. If a kid throws a fit, you don't give them what they want, and eventually they learn throwing fits won't get them anything. It was the same thing with Cheryl and her childish game of picking sides and pouting. I stopped at my locker to put away my books before heading to the cafeteria for lunch. Just after rolling in the combination, I opened the door, and Veronica walked up to me from the left.

She slid out from the crowded hall to sidle up to the locker next to mine, smiling brightly at me. "Hey, girl. How's your first day back?" she asked me. I put my books inside my locker while I thought up an answer.

"Well, Cheryl's not talking to me, Reggie called me a slut, and now I couldn't wear a short shirt even if I wanted to because there's a chance my tattoo might show," I spoke frankly, causing Veronica's bright expression to fade to one of dislike for what she was hearing. "So, uh...yeah, it's not really good to be back."

"Oh...I'm so sorry. Is there anything I can do? Maybe if I talk to Weatherbee, he'll-"

"Do what? Punish one of the elites? It's a nice thought, and I appreciate it, but I really don't think it'll do any good."

Her shoulders slowly lowered, but she nodded, "Okay. I guess just let me know if something else happens, then."

It was obvious she was disappointed—in the students, in her inability to help. And I felt bad. But there really was nothing that could be done, especially not by Veronica Lodge. So I shut my locker, giving her a flash of an apologetic, down-turned smile, and headed to the cafeteria. The nerves from the day had left my appetite lacking, so I opted out of consuming anything. When I walked into the room, it wasn't hard to spot the Southsiders.

They were the ones sitting at a table on the outskirts, completely out of place wearing clothes incompatible with anything else in this school. But I didn't sit with them. Instead, I found Jade and made my way to her table. She was sitting with Lewis—a polo player I hadn't seen since the day I left the school. Jade smiled when she saw me, just before I sat down on the other side of the table from her and Lewis. "Hey guys," I said, sitting down.

"And here I thought it was a conspiracy," Lewis commented, chuckling a little.

"Same boat, actually. I always thought pregnancy was a myth and birth control was just another way the government was trying to control us," I said, with my folded arms on the table. I nodded slowly, eyes narrowed sarcastically. "I guess you don't know until you try it yourself, right?"

Lewis shook his head, "Well, some things never change."

"Unfortunately," I nodded.

I flattened my features out to a neutral expression and pulled my bag onto the seat next to me. Jade filled me in on some things that had happened while I was gone, the usual school gossip. She only said a little before Lewis jumped in with what he knew—and, trust me, he knew a lot. It didn't last all too long before the subject was changed by Jade, who had obviously had enough of his gossip and elaborate commentary.

Somehow that boy knew practically everyone's business in the entire school. It was a miracle that anything could shut him up. Jade expertly changed conversational lanes by suddenly leaning forward on the table and over-enthusiastically asking me, "So, tell us about your Serpent friends."

Lewis dramatically rolled his eyes—and I mean, _dramatically_. "Please, Jade. You just want to know everything about the Hispanic one."

She smacked his upper arm, and my eyebrows rose about the same time my eyes shifted to Jade's face in slight surprise. Fighting a chuckle, I sat upright, dropping my hands into my lap. "Hey, i'm not judging—he's gorgeous," I commented, to which Jade gestured toward me in a 'see?' way. "His name is Fangs, he's five-eleven, the biggest dork I've ever met, and if you're interested you should really just say hi. He won't bite."

"Right, that's your job."

I glanced up at my right, just as Ezra was sitting down beside me with his tray. "And this is Ezra," I sighed, placing my hand on his shoulder. Retracting my hand, I leaned forward atop the table again, folding my arms there. Ezra gave a half-salute gesture in greeting before stuffing a burger in his mouth.

"I'm Jade, this is Lewis," Jade spoke up, smiling as she introduced them.

"Nicetomeetyou," Ezra slurred, around a mouthful. "Niceschoolyougottoo."

His voice was almost too muffled to understand at all. I rolled my eyes and pinched the bridge of my nose between my fingertips, saying, "Swallow, idiot. Chew and swallow." Ezra made a show of chewing the rest of his bite, then swallowing it all at once, making a bit of a gulping sound. Then he opened his mouth wide so I could see it was gone in a sarcastic display.

Scoffing and wrinkling my nose, I gave his shoulder a hard shove, only causing him to laugh as hard as I'd scoffed. "Charming," Lewis commented, with a hint of disgust. One glance at him was enough to tell just how disgusted he really was. I expected as much from him. He was a nice guy, but he was incredibly Northside. Lewis was incapable of tolerating much Southside behavior. And that was okay.

At least, it would be okay until he said something that irritated the Southside students. Then there would be a problem. I felt a sudden buzz in my pocket, causing me to pull myself off the table from surprise and instinctually reaching for the source of the sensation. After a moment of digging, I unearthed my cell phone. It was a text message causing the buzz. A message from Jesse. My eyebrows knitted together in confusion.

I wasn't aware that he had my cell phone number. If I hadn't given it to him, someone else had to. Opening the message, my mind was racing with who that could've been. Definitely not Sweet Pea. Maybe Jughead? Toni might have thought better of it, but I couldn't rule her out.

 **JJ: You look annoyed.**

Even more confused, I casually glanced around. But it didn't take long to find Jesse, sitting just across the cafeteria, at the table with the other Southsiders. Toni, Fangs, Sweet Pea, Jughead, and the other miscellaneous Serpent teens. He was paying attention to the conversation going on at the table, but I could see his cell phone poking out of the hand resting on the table—arm laying flat toward me to hide it from the others' view.

Quirking my lips to one side, I looked back down at my phone and typed a reply, then looked back up at him to watch for a reaction. Sure enough, after a second he looked down at his phone discreetly. Only turning his head a little and tilting the cell phone screen. From the second his eyes looked at the phone, I could tell he was trying not to smile.

 **JJ: You look annoyed.**

 **ME: Thanks, you're not so bad yourself.**

 **JJ: Want me to give him an excuse to leave?**

 **ME: idk I kind of like watching Lewis' reactions.**

 **ME: How'd you get my number?**

 **JJ: Fangs is a very giving person.**

With that text, I rolled my eyes up from my phone to look over at his table. Jesse was smirking at me from across the cafeteria. In hindsight, I really should've guessed that it was Fangs. That boy was so innocent sometimes I wondered how he even existed, let alone joined the Serpents. Looking down at my phone, I sent him one final text before I had to get to my next class.

 **JJ: Fangs is a very giving person.**

 **ME: Does he know what you did last summer?**


	28. 28: Battlefield

It was the first morning waking up in my newly updated childhood home, the last day of school for the week awaiting. The morning was not as graceful as it had been in the few days leading up to this. A cold swirl in the air kept me from getting out of bed for a little longer than it should. Every part of me ached. Going to school, taking care of Cash, and working was taking its toll. Going to school everyday was great for my GPA.

But it wasn't so great for my feet, my legs, my back—my everything. It was different from working at Pop's. At Pop's, when it got dull, I could stay at the register and Pop always made sure I took plenty of breaks to sit down. At school, it's constantly sitting at an odd angle to fit in a desk and then walking from class to class, up and down the stairs. And, at the same time, I was supposed to be learning things and getting good grades.

It was a lot on my muscles to do it all. Finally, I forced myself out of bed on the premise of getting a weekend off, and moseyed into the bathroom just outside the bedroom door. Toni got me to start taking weekly pictures of my stomach with her camera back when I was barely showing. This morning I took the twenty week photo. It seemed like time was moving too fast. It felt like i'd taken the ten week photo just yesterday.

For the sake of telling my story, it might seem like that to you, too. But that's what happens when everyday all you're doing is waiting for the day to end. Waiting for it to end so you can start the next. As usual, my routine started with a shower. Then, after dressing and getting my hair dried and brushed, I put on a very light amount of makeup before leaving the bathroom for good.

Next, I made breakfast for Cash and made her lunch while she ate. Mornings were never good in terms of my appetite. Midnights were when I was truly hungry. That peak time when my stomach felt so empty there was no way a baby was still in there. Then again, I knew the added hunger was due exactly to a baby being in there. As the days had gone on, and the due date got closer, I'd kept it in the back of my mind—the need for a name.

It came to the front of my mind as I walked with Cash to the car, getting in to drive her to school. Cashmere and Diana were very different names. But we did have different fathers. Did that have something to do with it? What even was my mother's thought process when she named her children? It was annoying to be clueless. Especially regarding something so important. But there were still a couple months ahead to figure it out.

So I didn't have to pressure myself too hard this soon. Though, I did need to have a few options gathered up within that time. I dropped Cash off at school, then stopped by the trailer park to pick up Toni. I didn't ask why when she said she needed a ride to school this morning. It wasn't a secret she was having some family issues, figuring out who wouldn't kick her out. I'd offered her my couch but she refused to take it.

Something about not wanting to add more stress to my situation. It was hard to argue with her—probably because she was as stubborn as I was. She slid into the passenger seat and I was driving as soon as her door closed. If I didn't, we would be late. Toni didn't seem to mind either way. "Hey, thanks for picking me up," she said, clipping on her seat belt.

"No problem, it's on my way."

Toni gave me a look, a small smirk on her lips, "No, it's not."

"See, I was trying to make you feel less like a burden and you just went and ruined it," I joked, sarcastically playing along. It caused her to chuckle a bit, readjusting in her seat to prop her boots up on the side of the dash. We drove to school in a casual silence. I wasn't about to push her on the subject of home life and I had a lot on my mind—my silence was easy.

I pulled into a spot in the parking lot and cut the engine. Toni sighed, opening her door. "Maybe I should join a club or something," she threw out the suggestion, sliding out of the car. I got out on my side, mulling it over as I pulled my bag onto my shoulder and shut my door.

As I rounded the end of the car to meet her on her side, I replied, "What on Earth for?"

We walked toward the entrance of the school together. She had her arm linked with mine as we moseyed inside the building. "I don't know. It would give me something to do," she shrugged. "Maybe cheerleading?"

"Cheerleading? Toni, are you feeling okay?" I asked, jokingly reaching up to put my hand against her forehead. She swatted me away with a playful gesture. "Seriously, though, if you want to try out...go for it. I'll be there to cheer you on. Heck, I'll even choreograph your routine if you want me to."

"Thanks, Diana. I might just take you up on that," she smiled brightly up at me, squeezing my arm a bit with hers.

We had to split to go to our separate lockers and then to our different classes. But I'd kept the thought in the back of my mind. I knew it was an amazing opportunity for Toni to get to go to school at Riverdale. What I didn't know, was that Toni would even be interested in something so categorized as 'girly'. But you learn something new everyday, even about your closest friends. I meant what I'd said—I would do whatever she needed if she was gonna go for it.

Toni had been there for me through a lot of things that most people in her situation would bail out of. I owed her a lot, and I wanted her to succeed at whatever she tried. I wanted to support her in the way she supported me. Though, I wasn't quite sure that was possible to replicate. The impossible standard wouldn't stop me from trying. I was sure of that much, at least.

* * *

After pulling open my locker door, I put in my books. I slid them into their proper spaces and put in anything else I wouldn't need to take to the cafeteria with me. And then it happened. A thickness tightened the air as bumps shot up my arms, seconds before I felt a presence at my left side. "What do you want?" I questioned, knowing who it was even without looking.

"I just wanted to ask how you were doing," Sweet Pea spoke calmly, not agitated like before. I shifted only my eyes up to see his face a second before he added, "Both of you."

"You couldn't just text me or something?" I asked, shutting my locker.

I turned toward him, loosely folding my arms over my chest. He snorted, "You _ignore_ my texts."

"You can thank yourself for that one."

"Diana, please. What can I do? What can I do to make this right?" he questioned, seriously.

It took me a bit by surprise, the hint of desperation audible in his voice. I'd asked myself that question as well—how _could_ he make it up to me? I didn't know. Not yet. Maybe not ever. "Nothing! There's nothing you can do, okay? I need _space_ ," I told him, just as seriously.

"How many times?"

My eyebrows knitted, annoyed, "Excuse me?"

"How many times do I need to apologize? Give me a number. Because I'll say I'm sorry as many times as I have to, to prove to you that it's true," Sweet Pea said. I almost— _almost_ —rolled my eyes back into my skull. He wasn't getting it. I didn't need apologies. I needed room to breathe, room to think. And I didn't have that when he was berating me with his presence.

"Pea, walk away," I sighed, stepping back once. "Please- just walk away."

"Diana, please, give me a chance-"

While he spoke, he shuffled a step forward and his hand brushed my arm. Almost as if he were about to try and caress me somehow, but a part of him thought better of it, so he settled for a light touch. Either way, it wasn't what I needed right then. I rotated my shoulder back to maneuver my arm away as I stepped back again, talking over him to tell him to get away from me. He was smothering me. And he wouldn't listen.

" _HEY_!"

A loud bark of a voice came from behind me somewhere. I didn't twist to see who'd spoken, or to whom they'd been speaking to, because that question was answered a few seconds after I'd mentally asked it. A fist flew in from my left and hit hard across Sweet Pea's jaw. He stumbled backward several steps, but ultimately fell flat on his back. My whole body lurched in a startle at the sudden action.

Only after staring at Sweet Pea on the floor for a second did I look up to find it was Jesse, breathing a bit heavily with his back to me. Murmurs and gasps filled the hallway almost instantly from the scene. In a second, Archie had come over from the other side of the hall, having seen it happen. "Hey, come on-" Archie said, putting a hand on Jesse's left shoulder.

A thought flashed through my mind— _bad idea_. But it didn't catch up with my mouth before Jesse turned and sent a fist into Archie as well, also knocking him down. It was obvious that this one was from pure instinct. Though, it didn't exactly change how the public reacted to it. Louder gasps erupted this time, even a few shrieks. Archie and I had agreed to put the past behind us. But that didn't stop me from fighting a bit of a chuckle after seeing him get decked.

My inappropriate humor and bitterness were my defining personality traits. The assault on Sweet Pea didn't much matter to the others. But the second Archie hit the floor, Bulldogs started to come out of the wood work to get their pound of flesh. Reggie appeared out of nowhere, shouting something about how much he was going to enjoy the fight he was about to start, before taking a swing. I felt a hand tugging me to the left, out of the way.

I didn't hesitate to go along with whoever was getting me out of there, still too in shock of it all to really care. It turned out to be Veronica. Reggie got in a hit or two, but then he left him open for Jesse to repay him the favor—and then Reggie was toast. Ezra surfaced from the forming crowd of spectators and jumped on a couple Bulldogs that were heading in for the kill. Fangs was peeling Sweet Pea off the floor on the other side.

He tried to get Sweet Pea to leave completely, but Sweet Pea easily shrugged him off before jumping in the fight as well. Fangs' shoulders dropped as he visibly sighed, watching it all. I found his eyes and shook my head, giving him a stern look, but he only gave me an apologetic expression before grabbing the back of a Bulldog's Letterman jacket and pulling. It was a complete mess. I threw my hands up in exasperation.

Veronica was cringing, watching beside me, still holding onto my arm. After a minute, Archie got to his feet and got out of the way. Appearing to be the only smart male for the first time in his life. He moved quickly over to Veronica and I on the sidelines, and Veronica let go of me to examine the bruise forming on his jawline. Reggie had hit the floor somewhere in the mix. Fangs and Sweet Pea were tag-teaming it.

Ezra was just flying at whoever tried to get close to Jesse. And Jesse was at the heart of it all, literally beating into submission anyone that challenged him. The fight had gone on long enough. It shouldn't have even started to begin with. I took a half step forward and shouted to be heard, "Jesse, stop this! That's enough!"

"What is his problem?" Archie asked, aiming the annoyed and confused question at me.

"Me, apparently," I sighed.

"You?" Veronica turned her head toward me, raising an eyebrow in curiosity and confusion.

I made a sound that was somewhat reminiscent of a growl, watching the fight helplessly. Suddenly a Bulldog—Moose, to be exact—slammed Jesse into the wall of lockers to the right of us on the sidelines. And I saw my chance. I hurried forward and shoved my hands into the front of Moose's shoulders. I think he only backed off because he didn't wanna be the one explaining to Weatherbee why the only pregnant student at Riverdale had a black eye.

He backed off, regardless. As soon as he stepped back, I grabbed Jesse's jacket and yanked him toward me, away from the lockers, and pulled him toward Archie and Veronica. "Get Weatherbee," I told Veronica, dragging Jesse with me as I passed them. She nodded and immediately headed off. I dragged Jesse with me, with little argument if any at all, down the hall and around the corner.

It was an empty space. It was a quiet space. But it wasn't enough—because anyone passing by could find us and drag us back into it. So I forced him into an empty classroom and shut the door behind us. "What the heck was that out there?!" I questioned, turning around to face him. "I thought they didn't need anymore ammunition? What happened to that?!"

His eyes were downcast, chest still heaving a bit from the adrenaline of it all. His face was peppered with light bruising and his bottom lip was split. Hair disheveled and jacket on sideways, he was visibly a wreck. "I'm sorry," he practically whispered, just loud enough for me to hear the emptiness in those words. He sounded hollowed out. And I knew it couldn't be from fighting.

Exhaling, I took a step toward him, "Talk to me, Jesse. What's going on?"

"I'm just having a bad day, alright?"

"Um, no—not alright," I shook my head, causing him to sigh. "Not when you just beat down three people in the school hallway."

Jesse sat back on the edge of one of the desks with a heavy exhale, turning over his hand to look at his knuckles. They were bruising, of course. But they were also splattered with someone else's blood. Probably from breaking a couple noses during the fight. "My step-dad kicked me out last night...no surprise there," he finally answered. It may have been quiet, but he actually lifted his head to look at me—which was an improvement.

"If you got kicked out last night, where did you sleep?" I asked, curiously.

He shrugged one shoulder, "Ezra's floor. He snuck me in through his window."

I sighed a little at that. Mostly because it was ridiculous, the way all Northside parents seemed to treat their children—and everyone else's. All of them were absolutely terrible. Well, with the exception of Fred Andrews. He was the only one I could be sure of. "Is that a place you can stay again?" I questioned, thinking.

"I don't know. Probably not, given how many times his parents kick him out," he answered, tiredly.

Letting my arms fall to my sides, I threw out the words, "Well, that's not gonna work. You need somewhere to stay, right? Somewhere you're not gonna get kicked out. That's not going to happen pretty much anywhere on the Southside."

Jesse eyed me curiously while I spoke. When I was done, he asked, "What are you suggesting I do, exactly?"

"Stay at my place. I have a couch—use it."

"Uh, I don't think that's a good idea," he shook his head, with a light chuckle.

"Worried I'm gonna rape you or something?" I asked, rhetorically. His eyes narrowed in a confused expression. So I added, "What? It happens to guys, too."

"Well, trust me, I'm not scared you're gonna take advantage of me. I just think, maybe- with us being where we are-"

With a scoff, I shook my head, "BS. You need somewhere to sleep, I have it—that simple. We're not sleeping on the couch _together_. I have my own room. We can figure the rest out later, but at least you're not camped out behind a dumpster somewhere, getting hypothermia."

Jesse still looked uncertain. But he slowly started to nod, features relaxing a bit—like maybe he was coming around to the idea, though still reluctant. "Okay. Thank you, Diana," he said, with a sure nod. "Especially considering how much hot water I probably just put you in."

"Eh, I can handle it. We look after our own, right?"

"Does that mean you're reclaiming your spot in the Serpents?"

A small smirk pulled up the left side of my mouth, "Didn't know I left it."

I took a step forward and grabbed his right hand, turning it over to see the damage. The knuckles were already showing obvious signs of some pretty nasty bruises. That, and the skin was split open here and there. Not to mention the wounds on his face. "Better get you to the nurse," I said. Then, looking up through my lashes, I added, "And then to the Principal's office."

* * *

It was around ten o'clock when I got into bed. With no shift at Pop's that night, I had a lot more time to stay home and be comfortable. So Cash and I ate dinner and then went to bed at a reasonable hour. Well, for me it was new—Cash had been going to bed on time every night just fine without me. After dinner, I sat in the tub for a long time. It ended up being a couple hours.

But I couldn't bring myself to get out. It felt good relaxing into the water. Then, as it cooled off, I was too distracted by the large swell of my stomach. More specifically, the tiny being growing inside it. I'd absentmindedly rubbed my hand up and down the bump in a slow rhythm, once again thinking deeply about names. When I finally dragged myself out, I was a raisin. I put on my pajamas, dried my hair, and collapsed into my bed.

I was out as soon as the light was. With one last glance at the clock, it was ten-fifteen before my eyes were closed permanently. You must be wondering what the point is of telling you this part. I'll tell you why this is important. Because I didn't sleep the whole night through. I'd known already that Jesse was going to be at the Wyrm late, and he'd said not to wait up for him. And at just past two am, there was a loud crash from the living room.

It woke me out of a dead sleep with a hard jolt. My eyes had immediately gone to the clock, and then to the cracked bedroom door. _It must be Jesse_ , I thought. Though, it was in my drunken like state of half-asleep, and I didn't know the truth yet. To make sure he got settled, I climbed out of bed to go to the living room. The cold of the night immediately erupted a series of bumps up my arms. I held them tightly pinned over my chest as I tip-toed to the door.

Just as I got there, I reached out to open it completely, when a flash of light caused me to become rigid almost instantly. It was odd. But still, I thought it was a friend. And then, another beam of light flashed across my door, and I sucked back behind the door with a sharp inhalation of breath. It wasn't a friend. People were breaking into my house.


	29. 29: Courtesy Call

I stood there like that for a moment—with my back against the wall behind the door, breathing more heavily from the adrenaline rush. Instant panic almost overcame me too much to move when the thought of Cash sleeping soundly just up the staircase entered my mind. My veins were boiling, but they were racing too fast. Lungs burning, my feet carried me quickly across the carpet to my bed and around the end to get to my nightstand on the other side.

My hand swiped my phone from the charger as I got to my knees beside the bed, hidden from the light beams flashing across the door every now and then. It didn't really hit me that my phone was vibrating for a second. I was seeing too much red. But then my brain caught up with my hands, and I read the caller ID. It was FP's trailer. My hands were shaking when I extended a finger to press the green button.

Holding the phone to my ear, I spoke quickly but quietly. "Dad- dad, I need help," my voice trembled almost as much as my hands. "There are people in the house, people breaking in. Cash is upstairs—I can't get to her-"

"Whoa, kid, s-s-slow down, alright? I'm comin', just hold on."

FP's voice was determined, but obviously intoxicated. Sighing heavily, I hung up, and put the phone back on my nightstand. The Wyrm wasn't too far—it was just around the corner, maybe two blocks from here. Sunnyside Trailer Park was a bit farther. I let my eyelids close as I took in a deep breath, and then I listened. There were quieted voices—young-sounding, male voices—coming from the living room, floating in through the cracked door.

There was familiarity in them, but I couldn't pick them out. Not with my heart pounding in my ears. All I could think about was Cash. Killer was upstairs with her but, then again, he was a heavy sleeper. It would take more than knocking over a lamp or something similar to wake him up out of a dead sleep. Some guard dog, right? Well, after a long time of not needing to defend, he got lazy and took a little more joy in sleep.

All there was in the house was me, Killer, and Cash. With two out of three being out to the wind, it was left on me to do something about this. There was no way I could count on a drunk FP Jones to come to our aide. At least, not on time. A sudden, familiar sound caught my attention. The hairs at the nape of my neck stood on end as the creaking of a floor board ripped through the silence. I knew that floor board.

It was the only loudly creaking board in the whole house—and it was on the stairs. My lungs suddenly constricted, and I could feel my heart slam against my rib cage. They were going to find Cash. They were going to hurt her. I knew it too well. Readjusting my position, I pulled out the drawer of my nightstand and dropped a hand inside. When I pulled it out after a second, there was a switch blade resting in my clutches.

I got up from my hiding spot behind the side of the bed and carefully made my way to the door. My fingers gently gripped the wood of the door, as not to make noise fiddling with the knob, but I paused at the sound of a muffled crash and thud. In my pause, I'd slid out the blade of my knife. I could hear footsteps on the floor boards, echoing into my room, getting close to the door.

On the mental count of three, I sucked in a breath, and whipped open the door. As I did, I swung my knife. The blade slashed through the air and a hand caught my wrist, twisting my arm, and turned me around so my back was against the intruder's chest. "Whoa! Geez, Diana, it's me," FP's voice slithered into my ear from over my shoulder, his arms holding me tightly still in his embrace.

"FP?" I questioned, in sheer surprise.

He let go of me, but got my knife from my hand before letting go completely. Mostly because I was too in shock to notice him maneuvering it from my fingers. The main living room light flicked on just then, revealing it wasn't just me and FP in the house. FP stood in front of me, with Sweet Pea, Jesse, Ezra, and Fangs outside—visible through the window. They were all walking up to the door. Footsteps sounded on the stairs, a second before I saw who they belonged to.

Jughead. He walked down the steps and turned to see both FP and I. "Cash is okay, she's still asleep," he announced, a hand resting on the banister. "Killer's a little confused, though." There was a breathtakingly violent wave of relief and calm that washed over me right then. Just from hearing those words. _Cash is okay_. My extremities still trembled from the adrenaline rush, and the fear of having to actually use my knife on someone.

But, overall, it all drained out through my toes with that one wave of sudden relief. I took a deep breath, let it out slowly as I nodded. "Are _you_ okay?" FP asked me, looking me over closely. I looked up at him silently, my eyes scanning his for a second. Looking for the intoxication. But there was barely any trace of it.

I nodded a little, after a short moment, "Yeah…I'm okay. Just a little freaked out."

The boys from outside had walked in just as I was beginning to speak my response to FP's question, so there was no need to repeat it for individual 'are you alright?' questions. "Did you get 'em?" FP asked, turning to see the four boys.

"No, they got away. They ran out the back and took off toward the tracks," Sweet Pea answered, an echo of anger to his tone. "All of 'em wearing Riverdale Letterman jackets."

"They were _Bulldogs_?" I questioned, out of pure surprise—to no one in particular.

My wide eyes shifted around to everyone in the room until someone answered, and then they rested on that person. "Gotta say, I'm not really surprised. Reggie made it pretty clear he hates us—but he _really_ doesn't like _you_ ," Ezra spoke up. I nodded a little, with a bit of a scoff. But then a thought entered my mind that caused my eyes to widen again.

"Did they take anything? Break anything?" I asked, speaking quickly.

Fangs answered, "There's some spray paint, but-"

"Show me."

The group looked a little unsettled, like they knew they would get a bad reaction. That showing me was a bad idea. But they moved out the door, single file, and I quickly followed behind them. FP and Jughead came with us to see as well. The boys lead the way just off the front steps, to the patch of grass to the left of the door. I stopped to stand when they did and looked up at the side of the house when Fangs gestured to it.

And there it was. In large, capital letters with vibrant, red spray paint. _**SERPENT SLUT**_. My shoulders dropped, but I felt a bit of smugness. That was Reggie's line specifically. With this, I could nail him just because his mouth doesn't know when to quit. There were other students at Riverdale that knew it, too. It wasn't just Southsiders who'd heard him say it. "Well, Reggie sure does know how to put nails into his own coffin," I commented, loosely folding my arms over my chest.

I felt the presence at my left side shift, and I took a quick glance in that direction. Jesse traded places with Fangs. He angled himself as to keep what he would say from the others now behind him, keeping his voice somewhat quiet as he spoke. "I should've been here—I'm so sorry I wasn't," he told me, genuinely apologetic.

FP, standing on my other side, turned a little more toward us. "Excuse me?"

His voice was confused, curious, and Protective Dad Mode all in one. Jesse's eyes shifted to FP's almost immediately, but his body didn't change otherwise. Instead, he blinked a few times, frozen like that in silence. I sighed a little, annoyed by FP's assertion, and I turned my head to look up at him. "He's sleeping on my couch," I explained, calmly. "He's got nowhere else to go. Okay?"

FP sighed heavily, readjusting his stance to continue intimidating Jesse by staring him down. Now there were mild signs of panic on Jesse's face. Mostly in his eyes. Annoyed completely now, I moved to see all the boys—Sweet Pea, Fangs, Ezra, Jesse, and Jughead. "Thank you, all of you, for coming tonight," I told them.

"Hey, we got your back, D," Fangs replied, surely.

Ezra spoke up next, "I was losing a game of pool when FP called, so..."

I rolled my eyes, and he smiled to let me know it was a joke. My eyes didn't move in Sweet Pea's direction much. I was thankful for the help and added muscles, but that didn't mean I suddenly changed my mind about moving out. Ezra, Fangs, and Sweet Pea all rolled out shortly after that moment. Jughead walked up to me after they'd walked away, and I actually found myself pulling him into a hug.

Maybe it was the nerves? Maybe I just needed a hug? I didn't really care what the reason was—all I knew was that I felt like I needed to do it. "Want me to camp out, in case they come back?" he asked, as we parted.

I shook my head, "That's okay, Jesse will be here."

"Alright. If something else happens, call me, okay? I'll always answer," he said, confident but serious.

"I will. Thank you, Jughead."

He nodded a little, then moseyed his way to the road where FP's truck was parked. Jesse took one glance between FP and I, then headed inside the house—most likely to give us space and room to talk. I re-crossed my arms as FP took slow steps toward me, stopping a foot in front of me. "Look, I don't…I don't really expect anything from this," he looked me in the eye, talking quietly. "But, I just want you to know, if you are _ever_ in _any_ kind of danger...I'll come running."

In a last minute decision, I uncrossed my arms again to wrap them around his neck. I held on tightly in his split second of shock induced stillness. Slowly, his arms snaked around me and I could relax into him a bit. "I know, dad," I replied. "I know."

* * *

As you would imagine, I was up very early the next morning after that wonderful incident. I had to be in order to photograph the spray paint and get to the Sheriff's Station before I would be late to work. There was no way I was letting Reggie off the hook for this. He was going to do jail time for vandalism and breaking and entering. I was a little bit closer to the dear old Sheriff now, and I planned on using that to its fullest potential.

I walked into the building and went straight to the front window. "I need to speak to Sheriff Keller," I said, as soon as I reached it. The woman behind the glass opened her mouth to speak, but she was cut off by Sheriff Keller himself, walking up to me from the right.

"Diana...what's got you in such a rush this morning?" he asked, stopping to stand just in front of me.

My lips were lightly upturned in a calm smile, as I answered him, "I'd like to report a crime."

"Alright. What kind of crime are we talking?"

I could tell he was thinking I didn't actually have a real crime to report. Just jovially playing along until he could tell me he couldn't report whatever he thought it was. That, and it was probably humorous coming from me specifically. "A couple of the Riverdale High Bulldogs broke into my house last night, and spray painted something on the front of the house," I explained, as I reached a hand into my pocket for my phone.

Once I got it out, I opened up the photo album. The Sheriff's demeanor instantly changed. His features dropped from lightly amused to a surprised serious expression. I held up the phone to show him the picture I'd taken of the spray paint. His eyes narrowed, brow creasing when he read it. "'Serpent slut'?" he questioned, bewildered and visibly repulsed. He sighed, "How do you know this was a Bulldog?"

"There was more than one. I know because my dad and some Serpents chased the pricks away. They said they were all wearing Riverdale Letterman jackets," I answered, as he took the phone from me to better look at it.

With a deep exhale, he adjusted his stance to rest a hand on his hip. This wasn't an ideal situation for anyone. But I knew what he was thinking. There was no way a Bulldog would have the nuts to face up to something like this. So I spoke up, "One of them was Reggie Mantle."

"How do you know that? Did you see their faces?" Keller asked me, a bit hopeful.

"No, but Reggie's been calling me that since before I transferred to Southside. I have witnesses that can attest to this."

"Well, if other people heard it, maybe someone else did it?"

I tilted my head, making a 'nope' face, "I highly doubt that, Sheriff. Reggie's too proud to let this happen. The Bulldog's can't use the bathroom without his say-so. There's no way some of them did this to my house without his approval and-or his presence."

"So if he didn't do it, he probably knows who did," Sheriff Keller said, and I nodded in agreement. He handed me my phone back before continuing, "Alright. I'll stop by his house and talk to his parents. I'm going to get to the bottom of this—I promise."

"Thanks, Sheriff."

He put a hand on my shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze, then turned and disappeared down the hall. I couldn't say I had the highest of hopes for this situation. After all, Reggie Mantle was never punished for anything. He didn't know the definition of the word _consequence_. But he soon would, if I had anything to say about it.

* * *

Being Saturday, Cash was eagerly preparing for our housewarming party—something Fangs deemed necessary throughout the week. He'd told everyone it was happening before I'd agreed even to have it, let alone when. He was probably just trying to get us all away from the breakup drama happening every two seconds. I couldn't really blame him for that. I wanted to get away from it, too.

Jesse had packed up his things from the couch and put them in my room, as per Cash's instruction. We were just going to be around close friends who more than understand the mess but it still had to be perfect for her to be satisfied. I'd gotten takeout from Pop's using my employee discount as the catering for the event. I stood at the island, unpacking the bags, while Cash decorated the living room. She'd insisted on hanging decorations, so we hit up a Dollar Tree yesterday.

Now she ripped up the plastic packaging to get to the decoration inside. She turned to Jesse, who sat next to her on the couch, and he told her how they were supposed to be used. It was nice for her to have another person around. No one could replace Sweet Pea for her. But at least there was an alternative. That was the thing about letting your partner get close to your relatives—the relatives get attached. They get used to having them around.

Then you feel guilty when it ends and you two don't talk anymore, because your family lost someone, too. Cash had been through a lot in the last two years. Mostly because of my complicated relationships. My hands kept performing their task, but I found myself watching her from the kitchen. More specifically, the way she acted. How she laughed and smiled when she was lifted up to pin the decorations to the ceiling.

She was always smiling, always happy. I would do anything to keep her that way forever. Maybe then I would know she was going to be okay. It wasn't long before people started showing up at the door. Toni, Fangs, and Ezra being the first ones. Betty and Jughead showed up together. It was a little awkward at first when I opened the door. He looked at me cautiously, like he was still ready for me to turn him away.

Though, he was right in assuming we were past that. Jughead was an idiot. But he never set out to hurt me, he never set out to hurt anyone. All he wanted was to help. I couldn't fault him for that, no matter how it turned out—especially considering my latest acts of violence. Betty smiled, trying to cut through the awkward tension as the first one to speak. "Hey," she greeted, bubbly. "We brought you something."

She held up her hands, showing what I hadn't noticed they'd held. A small, potted plant. It was a Myrtle Ball. My lips curved up into a mild smile, and I took the plant gratefully, before stepping back to allow for entrance. "Thanks, guys. Come on in," I gestured toward the inside of the house with the plant.

Betty wrapped her arm around Jughead's and tugged him inside with her. It took him a second to make a conscious step forward, too paused from the surprise his face displayed. His expression of shock quickly melted away to an easy-going smile as they walked by me. The next people to arrive were people I hadn't known were invited. Sheriff Keller and Kevin, were a surprise. Jade and Josie both came.

Veronica, Archie, and Fred showed up together. I acted friendly with all of them, welcoming all inside. Though, I wasn't too sure how everyone arriving would interact under one roof. "Congratulations, Diana—for the house and the baby," Fred said, hanging back a moment while Veronica and Archie hurried inside. "Would've said it sooner but I haven't seen you in a while."

"Thank you. Yeah, I haven't been around much up North. That's probably going to change, though," I replied, with a small smile.

He nodded with a smile, understanding what I meant. What with going to school on the Northside again, I would probably be around that side of town a lot more than I had been in the past couple of months. It was only logical to assume that. After Fred had come in and I shut the door, I turned around to face the rest of the house. There were so many people that came. So many friends. You don't really realize how big your family is until they're all in the same room.

There were roughly twelve, give or take. To know you had that kind of support was almost overwhelming. A knock at the door pulled me from my thoughts. Inhaling, I turned back around and tugged open the front door. I was paused slightly when I saw FP outside. He smiled a little, even more cautious than Jughead when he arrived. "Hey, kid...you don't have to let me in, just wanted to stop by and say congrats," he said, slowly.

I stepped forward and put my arms around him in a hug. I replied, "Hey, dad."

"I'm so proud of you. Your mother would be, too."

He said the words as he hugged me back, slightly whispering them. It was bittersweet to hear them. It made me feel good to know my parents were proud of the thing I'd done. What child wouldn't feel good about that? But it made me sad to think of my mom. To think of how much she's missed. She was nowhere close to being a perfect mother, but she was my best friend. I forced myself to remain composed as I stepped back.

FP's smile was a little wider, eyes a little brighter. He came inside the house and I closed the door behind him. Just then, I heard a shriek as I turned to face the living room. "DIANA!" Toni hollered, ducking under the dining room table. "Someone gave Cash silly string!"

As if to emphasize her point, Cash ran through the kitchen as everyone ducked out of the way like she were Moses parting the Red Sea, spraying silly string like it was liquid glitter. It literally covered every cabinet in the kitchen. She ran into the living room, cackling devilishly as she went, and sprayed the guests lounging on the couch—Betty and Veronica. They shrieked from surprise, only making Cash laugh harder.

I sighed heavily and hurried after her, "Cashmere Rose Cassidy, get over here right now!"

A look of panic flashed across her face before she dove over the back of the couch and ran back through the kitchen. "New party game!" Ezra shouted, gaining everyone's attention. "Catch Cash!" With giggles and shrieks from being sprayed with silly string, everyone in the kitchen lunged for Cash. Cash was having too much fun with all of it. She was like the muddy pig in the pen everyone was trying to jump on.

I stood back and watched as everyone chased Cash around the small living space. There was no way I was going to get into that mess. Through all the noise, I almost didn't hear my phone vibrating. I quickly grabbed it off the coffee table and went to the front door, heading outside to get away from the shrieking and laughing. I closed the door behind me and stepped off the small porch before answering.

I'd answered it without checking the ID. Honestly, I'd just needed an excuse to get some fresh air. But that was a mistake. Another to add to that ever growing list. I answered the call with a simple, "Hello?"

"Hello, Diana. You thought you could cheat playing my game."

The deep, computerized voice told me enough who it was. My feet turned to concrete bricks, keeping me from moving anywhere at all. Something about that voice, the words he chose to use, sent a shiver down my spine. Though I knew exactly to whom I was speaking, I had to ask simply out of sudden anxiety, "Who is this?"

"The Black Hood."

 **END  
BOOK TWO**

* * *

 **BOOK THREE COMING OCTOBER 1ST 2018**


End file.
